Talking to the Moon
by PaperMoon2719
Summary: FORMERLY LOVESONG BY LADYLOSERFACE: Tawny Singer grew up a hunter. She, Dean, and Sam were as close as close could be. This is their story.
1. Don't You Remember

**_Disclaimer:_** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 1x22: "Devil's Trap" belong to writer Eric Kripke. The lyrics to "Don't You Remember" belong to Adele and Dan Wilson._ __

 _ _Tawny belongs to me.__

 ** _When will I see you again?_**  
 ** _You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said_**  
 ** _No final kiss to seal anything_**  
 ** _I had no idea of the state we were in_**

 **November 12, 1985**

The phone rang 4 times before someone picked up. " _Typical small town sheriff's office,"_ thought John, sighing and leaning forward on the small table in the motel room.

"Sioux Falls Police Department, how may I help you?" drawled the deputy on the other end. Male. Sounded Caucasian. Maybe early twenties.

John cleared his throat and tried to sound as official as possible. "This is Special Agent Wilkes with the FBI. We've been alerted to some incidents in your area. I was wondering if it would be possible for me to come down and pick up the reports on those incidents," he said crisply, glancing into the main room. Dean and Sammy were still glued to the TV, the Roadrunner keeping them occupied. Good.

There was some shuffling. "What _incidents_ might those be, sir?" asked the deputy. John couldn't quite tell whether the deputy believed his line of bull or not. "Two murders. Joanne Clark and Walter Hobbs. Happened 8 and 4 days ago, respectively."

In truth, John hadn't been drawn to Sioux Falls by the murders at all. He had just found out about those an hour ago. No, he was here because of the storms and cattle deaths. He had found the same patterns in Lawrence in the week before Mary died, along with 3 suspicious deaths. This is a pattern that repeated itself 5 other times in the past 3 years. John hoped he could stop it before the third death.

"Well, for you to get the documents you'll have to come in and show some ID. That shouldn't be a problem, now, should it?" So the deputy _didn't_ believe he was with the FBI. Good thing he had a convincing ID.

"Not at all. I'll be there tomorrow morning. It'd be great if you had the files ready when I get there."

After curt goodbyes, John hung up the phone and gathered the newspaper clippings, maps, and weather charts he had strewn across the table. He tucked them into his journal and closed it. Sammy laughing drew John's attention and he sighed, standing and walking up behind his sons.

"You two hungry?" he asked, and both boys nodded. Sammy sighed heavily and exclaimed "I could eat a whole ephalent!"

"It's elephant, Sammy," Dean corrected, shooting John a sideways glance. He nodded his approval and Dean nodded back, settling the matter. "Okay. One large elephant, coming right up," he said, and Sammy smiled broadly.

John was glad he could still make a joke now and then. The boys had been through hell the past three years and John knew it. Sammy wasn't old enough to know the truth about Mary's death, but John was starting to think Dean knew more than he let on. A week ago they were in Nebraska and John peeked in on Sammy and Dean late one night. His chest tightened when he saw Dean checking the closet and under the bed. The kid knew monsters were real, despite John doing his best to keep him in the dark.

"You okay, daddy?"

His son's face came into focus, his own green eyes reflected back at him. "I'm good, Dean," he said gruffly, and Dean pulled himself into John's lap.

"How does pizza sound?"

* * *

 **November 14, 1985**

John couldn't help but be a little bit jealous when he pulled up to Singer Auto. He'd had the dream of owning a place like this once upon a time, and he let himself long for the past while he guided the Impala up to the garage. The owner, one Robert Singer, was bent under the hood of an old Chevelle. He turned when he heard the purr of John's engine.

"Oh, she's a beauty," he said as John stepped out, and John smiled proudly. "Yeah, she's definitely a keeper," John responded, closing the door and running a hand down the hood. Knowing the he could spend all day talking cars and they didn't have that kind of time, John decided to get down to business.

"I'm Agent Wilkes with the FBI," he said, flipping the badge open and letting Singer inspect it. When he looked satisfied, John tucked it back into his pocket.

"You must be here about the murder Karen witnessed," he said matter-of-factly. John nodded. "She's up at the house with our daughter. I needed a break anyways." He set down the rag he had in his hand and dropped the hood of the Chevelle.

"It's right up here," he offered.

"Thanks, Mr. Singer," John offered, and Bobby grimaced.

"Bobby. My father was Mr. Singer."

John could tell by his reaction that Bobby and Mr. Singer didn't get along well. John nodded.

"In that case, you can call me John."

The house reminded John of their house in Lawrence immediately. There were two rocking chairs on the porch (John could tell Bobby had put it in himself) and a few Little Tykes toys between them. John could smell pie baking from the open window. Bobby opened the door, calling for Karen as he set his hat down on a table by the door. John smiled when he heard a toddler's laughter and figured it must be Bobby's daughter. Sure enough, a little girl of almost two came running down the hallway, her hands held up towards Bobby. She giggled as Bobby scooped her up.

"Tawny, this is Mr. John. Can you say hi?" he urged, but Tawny suddenly turned shy. She buried her face in Bobby's shoulder, her brown curls bouncing. Bobby chuckles and looks at John. "Kids."

Bobby leads John into the dining room, offering him a chair. John declines; something feels off. He looks up when Karen Singer walks into the room, a flour dusted apron covering a pink blouse and jeans. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a braid and John thought of Mary. The two could have been sisters.

"Who's this?" she asks, reaching back and untying the apron. Bobby sets Tawny down and she immediately goes to her mother. "This is Agent Wilkes. He's here to talk to you about Walt," Bobby answered, and Karen nodded.

"Let me just go put Tawny down for her nap and we can talk," she offered. As if on cue, Tawny yawned widely and rubbed her eyes. Karen scooped her up and disappeared into the next room. John noted that the stairs ran along the back wall as Karen's footsteps could be heard. From the creaking door, Tawny's room was above the next room over.

"You got any kids?" Bobby asks, breaking the silence. John looks at him and clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. Two boys. Dean's six and Sammy's three," John says. Bobby smiles. "Tawny will be two on the 23rd."

Before they can switch topics, Karen walks back into the room and crosses her arms over her chest. "So, you're here about Walt?"

John nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"Well, I don't know how much I can tell you. I didn't see much," she says, and John nods again.

"Anything you can tell me would be helpful," John says. It's Karen's turn to nod as she sinks into a chair.

"Well, we were out of milk, so I ran into town to pick some up at the gas station. It was late, and I recognized Walt's truck. He's the owner, so I figured that's why he was there. Y'know, minding the shop and all. When I went in, I saw the blood. He was on the floor in front of the register. I ran out to the payphone and called the sheriff. Told him the same thing I'm telling you," Karen says. The way she recounts it makes John uneasy; she doesn't react to what she's saying. John writes it off as her way of dealing.

"Did you notice anything strange when you walked in? Any smells, or smoke?" he asks, and Karen shakes her head.

"Not that I can recall, no."

John nodded, unable to shake the feeling that she was hiding something. He would just have to check out the security footage from that night, if there was any.

"Well, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Singer. I'll be in touch if there's anything else I need."

He shook Karen's hand and Bobby offered to walk him to the Impala. As they passed by the door, John noticed a yellowish powder in the window. He managed to swipe a finger through it without Bobby noticing, and was careful not to rub any of it off all the way down the drive. Upon further inspection, John (regrettably) confirmed his suspicion upon smelling it. Sulfur. There was definitely a demon in that house, and John hoped he could get to it in time to keep that little girl from being an orphan.

* * *

"Why does it always have to rain?" John grumbles, turning on his brights and his windshield wipers up a level. It's almost midnight, but this really couldn't wait. John had spent the last six hours faking a federal warrant so he could get the cops to hand over the footage from the gas station the night Walter Hobbs was murdered. When he saw it, he knew why the cops were so stingy about handing it over.

At 9:42 PM on Sunday, November 10th, Karen Singer walked into Walt's Gas 'N' Sip. She sees the blood on the floor and his mangled corpse. Then, just before the tape cuts off into static, a large cloud of what looks like black smoke makes its way out of an air vent and into Karen's mouth.

Karen Singer was possessed.

John nearly lost control as he skidded onto the Singers' property, the Impala fishtailing as he made his way up to the house. He threw the car into park and grabbed his duffle, pulling out the Rite of Exorcism he had written down and shoving it in his pocket, along with a flask of Holy Water. Not even caring that the car was still running, John took off up to the front door. The sound of Bobby yelling and Tawny crying told John he needn't knock, so he shoved the door open. The house was dark, but John had memorized most of the layout earlier in the day. From the sound of it, Bobby and Karen were in the kitchen and Tawny… he couldn't tell where Tawny was.

"Karen, please…" John heard Bobby plead, and when John walked in he thought he was going to be sick.

Karen's nightgown was covered in blood, a carving knife sticking out of her chest. Bobby was on the ground by the sink, cowering. John knew how he felt. When Karen turned, her eyes were completely black.

"Can't you see we're busy?" demon-Karen spat, flicking her wrist. Luckily John was quicker, splashing her with Holy Water and distracting her while he ran for Bobby. Splashing her again, he grabbed the other man by the shirt and pulled him up.

"Get Tawny and get out. My car is out front. If I'm not out in ten minutes, go to the police station. My boys are at the motel on Treemont," he instructed, and Bobby nodded quickly, looking between him and Karen.

"Now, Bobby!"

Bobby ran, and John didn't breathe again until he heard the front door slam. There was a crack of thunder outside and John turned, spotting Karen on the other side of the kitchen. He managed to get her down with Holy Water before wrestling her into a chair and tying her to it. Ten minutes later, the Rite was finished and Karen Singer was dead.

* * *

 **23 Years Later**

Tawny's in the kitchen peeling potatoes when she hears the knock on the door. She grabs a towel, wiping her hands as she crosses the room.

"I got it, Daddy!" she calls, hearing the grunt from the other room. She rolls her eyes, knowing he'd probably fallen asleep again. The second knock started to grind on her, so she grabs a small bottle of Holy water her father keeps by the door and slowly opens it.

The Winchester brothers stare at her. Dean's eyes, as green as ever, are wide as he looks her up and down. Tawny would later swear she heard a low whine come from Sam's throat. His brother is the first to speak.

"Wow, Tawny. You've really grown into yourself," he says matter-of-factly, staring pointedly at her chest. She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well, you still haven't grown into your big head," she quips, turning to Sam. "You, on the other hand, are a freaking giant."

Sam grins, breaking from his stupor as she walks forward to give him a hug. They embrace, Sam planting a light kiss on the crown of her head, before she turns back to open the door for them. She leaves them in the hall, almost running to the living room.

"Dad, its Sam and Dean," she says, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. Bobby sits up quickly, nearly flinging himself out of his old La-Z-Boy recliner. "Why are they here?" he asks, straightening his hat as he looks at his daughter. She shrugs.

"Dunno. It must be important, though... Considering you tried to blow John's head off the last time he was here," she says quickly, turning to leave the room. She hears her father grunt his disapproval as she walks quickly to the kitchen. She rolls her eyes at Dean, who, naturally, winks at her when she walks into the room. She wants to kick Sam for telling him she'd had a crush on him as a kid.

"You boys want a couple beers?" she asks, turning to open the fridge. Neither answers so she grabs them anyways, not noticing her father standing in the doorway. She watches him with wide, apprehensive eyes. He takes a moment to speak.

"What the hell happened to your hair, boy? Do they not have scissors in California?" he demands, looking at Sam. The tension leaves the room with a sigh and Sam chuckles. "Apparently not," Dean quips, raising an eyebrow to Tawny. "What about that beer, wench?" he asks, leaning forward on his elbows. Tawny once again rolls her eyes, but walks over and sets down a brew in front of each Winchester. She sits, crossing one leg under the other and putting her forearms on the table, scratching at a piece of chipped paint.

"So, what are you doing here?" she asks, barely noticing Bobby walking to the fridge to get his own beer. Sam and Dean look at each other, the latter sighing loudly before answering. "Dad was kidnapped," he says simply. Tawny only raises her eyebrow. "By…?" she asks, waving a hand as she draws out the word.

Dean sighs again, leaning back and taking a swig of his beer. "Demons," Sam fills in, glancing at each face in the room before chugging his own beer. Tawny groans and Bobby sighs, both looking at each other. "Seriously?" Tawny whines, pushing her chair back and getting up. Bobby walks out of the room, Tawny close behind him. She's out in the hall when she realizes Sam and Dean are still sitting at the table. She leans back around the doorframe and looks at them with raised eyebrows.

"You comin'?" she asks, glancing back to the den, where her father is shuffling through books and papers. The boys look at each other, then back at her. "To do what?" they ask at the same time, and Tawny grins.

"To wrangle us up a demon bitch, that's what."

* * *

Tawny's on the porch looking Rumsfeld over when Dean finds her. "He okay?" the green-eyed hunter asks, walking over next to where she's kneeling. Her brown eyes turn up to glance at him before she answers.

"He's got a broken leg and a few scratches. Nothing Dr. Meger over at the Animal Hospital can't fix," she says, patting the Rottweiler on the head before standing. She looks over at the Coroner's van, where they're loading Meg's body. Dean watches her closely as her brown hair is picked up by a gust of wind. She wipes her hands on her jeans, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. She takes a deep breath and Dean sighs.

"Long day," he says stupidly, and Tawny looks at him. "Yeah, and yours isn't over," she replies quietly. They stare at each other, both deep in thought, not moving, barely even breathing. They're closing in when the door slams open and Bobby walks out. Rumsfeld barks happily, wagging the stump of his tail as Bobby walks over to him.

"How's my Rummy?" he asks, kneeling to rub the dog's head. Dean and Tawny grin as the dog's tongue lolls out of his mouth, a look of pure pleasure on his canine face. "You takin' him up to see Joe?" Bobby asks, looking up at his daughter. She nods. "Yeah, I'll take him," she says. Bobby stands, turning to Dean.

"Get outta here and save your dad's ass, will ya?" he says, holding a hand out to shake Dean's. The two embrace, Dean's eyes flicking from the dog to Tawny's face. Bobby pulls back, following Dean's gaze to look at Tawny. "And Dean?" he adds, putting a hand on his shoulder. Dean looks at him, raising his eyebrows.

"Stay the hell away from my little girl," he growls, stomping back into the house. Tawny giggled at the look on Dean's face. "Your dad's scary," he said, wiping his forehead. Tawny only grins, patting him on the shoulder. "Trust me, he can be," she said. Dean smiles at her. She hugs him then, her lip trembling.

"Be careful, okay?" she whispers in his ear. She feels him nod against her cheek, and he turns his face to bury it in her neck. "I promise nothing will happen to me. Or Sam," he replies quietly, pulling away to kiss her cheek. "Thanks for letting us through the door," he says. She nods and the door opens a second time, Sam spilling out of it. He walks over to Tawny and hugs her, whispering his thanks. She only nods to him, kissing his cheek. She watches them walk off of the porch and over to the Impala and she walks over to a beam, leaning against it. She smiles at Dean when he turns and waves before getting into the driver's seat and speeding off. Rumsfeld's whining brings her back to reality and she turns, patting him on the head before going into the house to get the keys to her truck.


	2. I Want You Back

**_Disclaimer:_** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x1: "In My Time of Dying" belong to writer Eric Kripke. The lyrics to "I Want You Back" belong to The Corporation._

 _Tawny belongs to me._

 _ **Oh baby give me one more chance  
Show you that I love you  
Won't you please let me  
Back in your heart  
Oh darlin' I was blind to let you go  
Let you go baby  
But now since I see you in his arms  
I want you back**_

At first Tawny thinks she's hearing a large bug. She'd been dreaming about one, so, naturally, it's the first thought that pops into her mind. Then she rises into the twilight between wake and sleep and realizes she's in bed at home. She snaps to full consciousness when she hears her father talking loudly as he comes up the stairs.

She jolts out of bed, grabbing the phone off of her bedside table as it once again begins to vibrate. She sees its Sam calling and her heart drops. She flips the phone open and puts it to her ear.

"Is he dead?" she asks quickly, walking over to grab a pair of jeans off of the desk in the corner. Sam sighs and she pauses. "No," he finally answers. Tawny takes a deep breath. "But it's not looking good, Tawny. You need to get here." She can hear the defeat in his voice and she angrily yanks on her jeans.

"I'll take the first flight and get a car at the airport," she says, switching the phone to her other ear to hold it on her shoulder as she grabs a bag off of a hook on her closet. Sam sighs. "Okay. Just… hurry, okay? I don't think he has very long," he says, and she can almost hear the tears flowing. She manages to choke out a goodbye and has barely closed the phone when the sobs take hold.

Suddenly, Bobby is banging on her door. "John says there's a flight to Jefferson City leaving in 45 minutes. I already booked you a seat," he says loudly. Tawny stands, taking a few steps to unbolt the locks and pull it open. She wipes her face and clears her throat, not looking her father in the eyes as she grabs a few shirts and another pair of jeans to shove in her bag. She circles the room, grabbing a few things here and there, feeling her father's eyes on her back.

She brushes past him quietly, heading into the bathroom to grab some toiletries when he finally speaks. "He's going to be fine, sugarbee. I promise," he says softly. Tawny pauses with her hand on the open cabinet door. "I don't know about that, daddy," she manages to say before her throat closes with another sob.

She feels his hand on her shoulder and she turns, burying her face into his chest. He hugs her close until she stops crying and pulls away. She finishes throwing what she needs into her bag before heading out of the bathroom. She runs down the stairs, skipping every other one.

"Here's the flight info. Call me when you get there," Bobby says, handing Tawny a piece of scribbled-on paper. She glances at it before grabbing her father in a tight hug. "Thanks, daddy," she whispers, kissing his cheek. She grabs her keys and runs out to her truck, the night air crisp as it blows her hair back. She quickly throws open the door and flings her bag into the cab, following it closely. She sighs and pushes her hair behind her shoulders before turning the ignition and speeding off towards the airport.

* * *

Sam is waiting for Tawny when she gets to the hospital. She jumps into his arms, hugging him tightly as they both take in the feeling of being close again. Two nurses are watching them closely as Tawny pulls away from Sam.

"How is he?" she asks, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulder. Sam looks at his feet before looking back up into her eyes. "Well, the doctor says that he's got some internal trauma that will heal, but only if he wakes up," he says quietly, putting a hand at her elbow to lead her down the hall. Tawny stops, looking up at Sam.

"You mean 'when'. _When_ he wakes up," she says. Sam stops, too, looking down at her.

"Yeah," he finally replies. "…when." Tawny doesn't like the far-off tone his voice has. She remembers he had that tone when they were kids and he wasn't sure John would make it back alive.

Tawny's thoughts fade when they reach an open door and Sam walks into the small room. Tawny stands in the doorway, staring at the bed with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her breath catches in her throat as her eyes follow the tubes from the machines to where they stick out of Dean. Suddenly, everything goes fuzzy and she slumps against the

* * *

 _door was open when Tawny woke up. Sam was no longer by her side. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. That's when she saw a shape come in and she grabbed the rifle lying just behind the dust ruffle. She cocked it, standing slowly. "Don't move," she said, aiming the gun at the shadow's head. Its arms went up, one flipping on the light switch to reveal a slightly tipsy Dean._

" _It's just me, Angel Pants," he said, hiccupping as his eyes traveled down to the hem of her tank top. "Or should I say lack-of-pants." One eyebrow shot up towards his hair line and he grabbed the doorknob, swinging the door closed nonchalantly as he walked towards her. She lowered the rifle, rolling her eyes before replacing it. She jumped when she felt Dean's hands on her hips, playing with the lacy garment hugging them._

" _Oh, soft," he said quietly, his right thumb sliding in to caress the skin of her hipbone. She groaned, closing her eyes as she stood and turned, putting her hands on his chest and pushing him away. "Dean, you're drunk," Tawny said. She had to use all of her strength to even get him to move, and she knew if it came to it she would barely have the strength to drag him into bed._

 _Dean grinned down at her, his hands sliding to her rear. "And you're_ legal _," he whispered, pushing his lips roughly onto hers. He was right; she had turned 18 a week ago, which made him, what? 21? 22? She couldn't think when his lips were suckling her neck like that. She licked her lips, trying not to moan, and tasted the scotch he'd been drinking. That pushed her back to reality and she once again pushed at his chest._

" _No, Dean. You know I'm not like that," she said, straining to get him to move. "You want it, baby. I can tell you want it_ bad _. Sammy told me," he said quietly, running his tongue up her neck. She pulled away, a pit of fear forming in her stomach when she realized he out powered her immensely. He kept pulling her back to his chest only to have her fight him, and she realized she wasn't going to win. He finally lifted his head to kiss her mouth when she slapped him._

 _The sound reverberated through the room like a gunshot, and they both stood staring at each other. His green eyes wide with surprise, hers filled with fear, and he let her go. She watched as he took a few steps back, lost his footing, and tumbled into the side of the other bed. He fell, his full frame smacking into the hardwood floor with a loud, angry_ BANG. _"Oh, my God," she gasped, covering the distance in less than a second. "Are you okay?" she asked, grabbing his shoulders as he sat up. Dean looked up at her, a hand on his forehead, and he was silent for a moment. "Dean…?" she asked again quietly, putting her palm to the bright red print on his cheek._

" _I'm sorry…" he finally whispered, his lower lip trembling, and Tawny knew he was bound to be more emotional in his inebriated state. She shook her head, her eyes glancing down to a spot on his chest before bouncing back up to his eyes._

" _No, Dean. You don't need to be," she said quietly. Dean looked at her with confusion when the corner of her mouth turned up in a grin. "I know how sexy I am," she giggled, and Dean couldn't help but smile at her. They stared for a long time at each other before Tawny finally came to her senses._

" _C'mon, Dean. Let's get you into bed," she said, pulling him up by his forearms. He settled into the bed, sighing as she slid his shoes and socks off while he pulled off his jacket and shirt. Tawny blushed when she saw just how muscular his chest was._

 _She made sure Dean was lying down before turning the light off. Tawny had just settled back into bed when she heard Dean roll over and say her name. She thought he was dreaming until she heard him get up and walk over to her bed._

" _Scoot," he said, waving his hands in a shoveling motion. Tawny sat up, obliging. She smiled when he cuddled up to her back, shoving his knees up behind hers and wrapping his arm around her waist. He finally settled when his face was buried in her curls._

* * *

When Tawny's eyes flutter open, she's staring into a fluorescent light. "Tawny?" she hears from her feet, and she looks up to see Sam. She sits slowly, realizing she's in a green sleeper chair. John is watching her from his hospital bed a few feet away.

"You're alive!" she yells, throwing herself out of the chair and into John's good arm. She hugs him closely, trying to force down the lump in her throat. "He's going to be okay," John whispers as if he can read her mind. Tawny nods, pulling away and wiping her nose. "I know," she breathes, inhaling as she settles into the mattress. Sam looks between them as if he's trying to decide whether to talk or not.

Tawny sighs. "Spit it out, Sam."

"Fine," he says, putting his hands on his hips. "I'm going to try to find someone to heal Dean. I've done it before, and I'll do it again." John stares.

"Sam, you know those guys are one in a million. You'll never find a true solution in time." Sam scoffs at his father, looking at Tawny for help. When she doesn't offer any, he speaks again.

"Dad, I just need to –," John cuts him off.

"No, Sam, you don't. You need to go get the Colt out of the Impala before someone else finds it," he says. Sam fumes, circling the bed. For a moment Tawny thinks he's going to walk out, but then he turns and yells "It's all you care about, isn't it?"

Tawny stares, wondering if she can make a run for the door without either Winchester noticing. Thankfully, John offers her a chance. "Tawny, I'd like a word with my son," he says quietly, his eyes not leaving Sam. Tawny quietly rises, crossing the room. She quickly leaves, thankful that Dean's room is only one over. "Round two," she whispers, pausing again at the door.

She takes a deep breath and a step at the same time, not feeling dizzy in the slightest. In fact, the beeping of the heart monitor is mildly soothing. She glances around the room, spotting a chair in the corner that she pulls up to the left edge of Dean's bed. She sits, warily looking at all of the machines before picking up Dean's hand.

"Hey, Dean," she says quietly, leaning forward to put her elbows on the edge of the bed. She takes a shaky breath, looking up to try to will the tears back. She loses, her eyes misting over as she looks at Dean's face.

"I'm so sorry. I should've been there," she sobs, pressing the back of his hand into her cheek as she cries into his side. She sits there for a long time, just holding his hand. What Tawny doesn't know is that if she were to look up in the window she would see that Dean is, in fact, sitting right next to her, his hand on her back, his own tears falling because he can't wipe hers away.

* * *

Tawny's tears eventually stop falling and she simply sits there in silence, not letting go of Dean's hand. She doesn't even look up when she hears footsteps behind her.

"Tawny?"

Sam sets his hand on her back, moving it up to her shoulder as she leans back, stretching. "Hey, Sam," she says quietly, turning her head to look away for the first time since she'd stopped crying. Sam squeezes her shoulder.

"Your dad's here," the tallest Winchester says. Tawny stands. "Where?" she asked, peering around his shoulder. Sam grins, shaking his head. "No, I didn't mean _here_. He came to tow the Impala back to your place."

Tawny nods. "Give me a minute to clean up," she says, turning towards the bathroom. She's taken a few steps before Sam speaks.

"I thought you'd want to stay with Dean," he says, looking down at his brother before looking back at Tawny. She pauses, looking at Dean, too, before looking back up at Sam.

"I need to see my dad, let him know I'm okay," she says, resuming her path to the bathroom. She closes the door, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror. She rinses her face, drying it off with a paper towel before turning and walking out.

Sam is in the chair, just staring at Dean, when Tawny walks up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Ready?" he asks quietly, turning around to look up at her. She nods, rubbing her arm. She wonders why she didn't grab a jacket when she left the house. She glances over at the pile of clothes Dean had been wearing and spots his jacket on top.

"Hey, Sam?" she asks. He pauses at the door, looking back at her. She looks at him hesitantly. "Do you think Dean would mind if I used his jacket?"

Sam looks at her and smiles. "No," he replies, getting a smile from Tawny in return. She walks to the end of the bed and grabs the jacket, sliding it on. She looks at the sleeves, rolling her eyes when she sees that they cover her hands completely. She looks up to see Sam watching her with a huge grin on his face.

"You're such a midget," he laughs, shaking his head. Tawny glares. She rolls the sleeves up as she walks out of the room, hitting Sam as she passes him. "We prefer the term 'little people', thank-you-very-much."

* * *

"Oh, man. Dean is gonna be _pissed_ …"

Tawny looks up at Sam, then back to the Impala. The sight of it makes her want to cry, partially because she knows how much she means to Dean, and partially because it breaks her heart to see such a perfect piece of machinery turned into junk. She slowly walks towards it, stopping when she's on the driver's side of the back seat. She peeks in, sees the blood staining the white leather and has to turn away knowing it's Dean's blood.

"Look, Sam, this – this just ain't worth a tow," Bobby says, lifting the hood to look under it. When he sets it down, it tilts up, completely torn away from the body of the car. Tawny looks from her father to Sam, who's pulling his destroyed laptop out of the backseat. Bobby huffs before continuing.

"I say we empty the trunk, and we sell the rest for scrap," he suggests gently, looking from Tawny to Sam. Sam pulls the cover of his laptop, sees how useless it is, and drops it on the ground before looking up again.

"Dean would kill me if we did that. When he gets better he's gonna want to fix this."

Bobby circles the car, pointing out problems as he goes. "There's nothing _to_ fix. The frame's a pretzel. The engine's ruined. There's barely any parts worth salvaging," he reasons. Tawny puts her forearms on the roof, speaking for the first time since she got in the car at the hospital.

"Dad's right, Sam. I know how much he loves this car, but it's just _not a car_ anymore," she says softly, looking at her father. He glances at her as Sam speaks.

"Listen to me, guys. If there's only one working part, that's enough. We're not just gonna just give up on…" Sam looks away as his speech drifts off. Tawny looks down at her hands, tears filling her eyes. She knows what Sam is doing; psychologists would call it projection, she just calls it trying to keep hope. She looks back up at Sam.

"Okay, you got it."

Tawny walks over to Bobby and he puts an arm around her shoulders, kissing her forehead. They're silent for a moment before Sam pulls something out of his pocket. He unfolds a piece of crumpled paper, passing it across the roof of the car.

"Here… um, dad asked if you could get this stuff for him."

Bobby pulls his arm away from Tawny, grabbing the list and scanning it, Tawny reading it over his shoulder.

"What's your dad want with this?" Tawny asks, looking from the list to Sam. He shrugs. "Protection from the demon."

Tawny and Bobby look at each other, then at Sam, who looks at them, confused. "What?" he asks. Tawny shakes her head. "Nothing, Sam, it's just, uh," she starts, shoving her hands in her pockets as she looks at her father for answers.

"Bobby, what's going on?" Sam asks, turning his gaze from Tawny's downturned gaze to Bobby. When Bobby doesn't answer either, Sam sighs, annoyed. "Oh, come on! I'm so sick of the damn secrets! Just fucking tell me!" he yells, and Bobby and Tawny both look up. Sam _never_ drops the F-bomb. Ever. Which is exactly why Tawny takes a deep breath and grabs the list from her father's hand.

"This stuff, Sam, it's not used for protection. Essence of Wolfbane, Ashes of a Lesser Saint, goat's blood… They're used to _summon_ a demon, not keep one away," she says, handing the list back to her father. Sam stares her down, making Tawny nervous with the amount of fury brewing behind his eyes. "Sam, say something…" she pleads quietly, crossing her hands over her chest. Sam fumes, running his hand roughly through his hair.

"I knew it. I knew he'd do this," he mutters angrily. Bobby clears his throat. "So, uh, do you still want me to get this stuff for him?" he asks carefully. Sam's arm drops to his side and he taps his fingertips against his thigh, a sign Tawny knows all too well means the wheels in his big head are turning. Finally he speaks.

"Yeah. If he wants to do this, fine. I don't care anymore," Sam says, jutting his chin out to feign strength. Tawny, however, knows otherwise. Sam glances at her nervously, almost asking if he's doing the right thing. Tawny bites her lip, turning to Bobby.

"You think you can get all this stuff while we eat? I'm starving and Sam… Well, Sam needs to gain a few pounds, quite frankly," she says, walking around and poking Sam in the ribs. He playfully swats at her hand, a lopsided grin she's missed adorning Sam's mouth. When she looks back at her father, he's watching them with a melancholy grin on his face.

"You two haven't changed," he says quietly, and Tawny's grin fades a bit. Before she can say anything, Bobby clears his throat and taps the list. "Anyways, yeah, I'll have this stuff in about an hour. I'll meet you back here," he says, walking around to the side of the car Sam and Tawny are on. Tawny hugs him, kissing his cheek. "Thanks, daddy," she whispers in his ear, not talking about the list at all. He grunts, clearly not wanting to do the mushy father-daughter thing in front of Sam. She pulls away, grinning at him. They watch as he climbs in his truck and drives off before getting back into Tawny's rental.

"So, I saw a diner down the street," Sam suggests. Tawny looks up at him, wanting so badly just to hug him and tell him that everything will be okay, that Dean will make it out alive because that edema has _no clue_ who it's fucking with, that John really does love him and Dean, he just doesn't know how to show it. But she only nods, shifting the car into drive and heading out of the lot.

* * *

Sam is quiet for the ride back to the hospital. He hadn't talked much when he and Tawny were eating. In fact, he'd only spoken to thank Bobby. By the time they've gotten into the elevator at the hospital, Tawny's worried that he might kill John. Her fears aren't relieved when they walk into his room and Sam goes over to the window, a storm of fury brewing behind his eyes. John looks at Tawny, nodding towards his son with a look of confusion on his face. Tawny tilts her head to the side, all but saying _"You know exactly what's wrong."_ John ignores the look and stares at Sam's back.

"You two are quiet," John says simply, and Tawny looks at him, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. She's working at finding the right words to say when Sam turns, throwing the duffle Bobby had given him onto the floor.

"You think I wouldn't find out?" he yells, livid. John only stares at him, turning to look at Tawny for a moment. "What are you talking about?" he asks nonchalantly. Tawny scoffs, earning a glare from the older Winchester.

"That stuff from Bobby," Sam accuses, his voice still a few decibels louder than usual. "You don't use it to ward off a demon – you use it to summon one. You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown!"

"Guys," Tawny warns, but they ignore her.

"I have a plan," answers John. Sam is quick to retort.

"That's exactly my point! Dean is dying and you have a plan! You know what? You care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son," Sam spits, his eyes boring into John's. Tawny stands.

"Sam!" she says. "Sam, you know that's not true!"

But John interrupts her, seeming to be deaf to her defense.

"Do _not_ tell me how I feel. I am doing this for Dean," he says. Tawny opens her mouth again, but Sam is yelling before she could get out a syllable.

"How? How is revenge gonna help him?" he demands, looming over his father. "You're not thinking of anybody but yourself. It's the same selfish obsession!" Tawny marches around to pull Sam back.

" _Stop it!_ " she yells, pushing on Sam's chest. He acts like he doesn't even notice her existence, glaring at his father over Tawny's head. John groans irritably. "Tawny, get out of here. Go to Dean's room – this really doesn't concern you," he says through gritted teeth. Suddenly something sparks in Tawny's chest, anger shooting to her _bones_ , and at that moment she wants to hit John. She spins, staring down at him.

"None of my _concern_? Don't give me that shit, John Winchester! Your boys came to me to save your goddamned _life_ and I helped, even after everything that happened between us! Then _Sam_ called _me_ and I got on a fucking _plane_ and came down here to do what I could to help! And what do you do? You _use_ me to trick Sam! And guess what? I'm still here, so don't you _dare_ tell me that this isn't any of my _concern_!" she yells. John stares at her, his eyes narrowing.

"Notice it wasn't me that asked for your help?" he says icily. Tawny backs up a step, tears stinging her eyes. "And you, Sam, you know what's funny? I thought this was your obsession, too. This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You _begged_ me to be part of this hunt! Now, if you had killed that thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!" he finishes.

"It was possessing you, dad! I would have killed you, too!" Sam yells back. Tawny turns, a tear falling on her cheek as Sam and John continues to fight.

"Yeah," John says emphatically, "and your brother would be awake right now."

Sam steps back, falling into line with Tawny. "Go to Hell," he says quietly. John only chuckles deprecatingly. "Oh, you know what, I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake!" he yells.

Suddenly there's a loud crash as a glass of water flies a few feet and lands on the floor. The three of them stare at the broken glass on the floor before looking back up at each other. Before anyone can say anything a woman's voice comes over the PA and a crowd of nurses and Dean's doctor run past the open door. John looks between them.

"Something's going on out there," he says, nudging his chin towards the door. Tawny and Sam both turn and run out the door, Tawny grabbing the frame as she swings to the left. Her stomach drops when she sees they're in Dean's room with a crash cart.

She feels numb as she watches them shock Dean, trying to get his heart to beat again. By the third shock Tawny can't watch anymore and she turns, burying her face in Sam's chest. There's so much she wants to tell Dean. So much she wants to apologize for. She hears them doing CPR, and she hears Sam's voice low in her ear as he plead to some higher power with a simple "No". Then, finally, blessedly, she hears the stead beep of a heartbeat.

* * *

"What's in the bag?"

Tawny's looking up at Sam. She'd stayed in Dean's room after his close call, sitting in his chair and talking to him. She knew it didn't help him much, but it helps her more than anything. If she's talking, she doesn't have to think about what she'd being doing if he _hadn't_ bounced back.

"Uh, I'll tell you in a second," Sam says, walking up next to where she had pulled the chair over to the side of Dean's bed. He glances at her hand where it rests in Dean's and she slowly pulls it away, wiping it on her jeans awkwardly. Sam speaks again, but not to Tawny.

"Hey," he starts, staring at his brother. Tawny stands, her heels clicking too loud on the linoleum floor. She stops at the foot of the bed and Sam continues.

"I think maybe you're around. And if you are, don't make fun of me for this, but, um, but there's one way we can talk."

Tawny watches him pull an Ouija board out of the paper bag and her eyes widen. "Sam," she warns quietly. Sam looks up at her, perplexed at her obvious fear.

"What?" he asks, stumped. Tawny shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't do Ouija boards," she says simply. Sam chuckles, glancing at Dean.

"Why not?" he asks. Tawny scoffs, uncrossing her arms and putting them on her hips.

"Uh, did you not see _The Exorcist_? Sorry, but there's no guarantee it would be Dean on the other line and I'm sure Captain Howdy would _love_ to have a chat," she says incredulously, raising an eyebrow. Sam clears his throat.

"Alright, it may not be a guarantee, but tell me you don't feel him. Like he's here, standing close by, watching you."

At that moment Tawny suddenly feels a warmth on her back and she glances around, seeing nothing. He had a point, she did feel _something_. She isn't positive that it is Dean, but she's leaning in that direction. She sighs, rolling her eyes before walking towards him.

"Fine. But if anything freaky happens it's your fault," she says, poking Sam in the chest as he crosses her path. They both sit down, Tawny letting out a long breath.

"What's with the Lamaze?" Sam asks, raising his eyebrow at her as he takes the lid off the box, tossing it on the floor next to him. She glares.

"Shut up and get on with it, Linda. We don't have all night," she reminds, waving her hand at him. Sam smiles briefly before taking the board out of the box.

"Dean?" he asks. "Dean, are you here?" He sets the board down on the floor, grabbing the pointer and offering it to Tawny. She puts her hands up and laughs sarcastically.

"Pfft, no. Get to it, psychic boy," she says. Sam shrugs, setting the pointer down. He's only had his hands on it for a moment when it moves up, covering the "Yes" on the top left hand side. Sam gasps, looking up as he spoke.

"Oh, it's good to hear from you man! It hasn't been the same without you, Dean."

"Very funny," she says, shoving Sam's shoulder. He looks at her, his eyes wide. "Tawny, I swear it wasn't me. I _swear_ ," he insists. Tawny's glare fades and she glances around. She sighs loudly, rubbing her forehead.

"I feel like I'm at a slumber party séance…" she mutters. "Dean," she says clearly, looking up. "Dean, if you're here, and if you really _are_ Dean…" She looks at Sam, her eyebrows high.

"If you really are Dean then you know how much I hate these things. I think it was you that chucked that glass across the room, so do something else. Touch me or something," she offers, glancing around. Suddenly, and without any warning, Dean's jacket lifts off of the back of the chair and falls to the ground. She looks at Sam, her eyebrows raised, and that's when she feels a hand on her knee. She looks down and nothing is there, so, naturally, she gasps and shuffles over to Sam's side before she can help herself.

"Okay, okay! I get it!" she says, raising her hands. Sam looks down at her, a smile plastered across his face. Suddenly Sam looks down and they watches as the pointer moves across the board.

"H…U…" Sam recites, then the pointer falls on N and Tawny raises an eyebrow.

"Hunt?" she asks, looking up at Sam. He glances at her.

"Are you hunting something?" Sam asks, and once again the pointer slides to "Yes".

"Dean," Sam continues, his voice showing his excitement. Tawny can't help but be a bit excited herself, but she's trying to keep from having an irresponsible amount of hope. After all, things have turned worse under seemingly better circumstances. She's pulled from her thoughts when Sam speaks again.

"It's in the hospital, what you're hunting? Do you know what it is?"

Tawny watches the pointer slide around the board, her heart falling with each letter revealed.

"R… E…A… P…" she whispers, suddenly knowing exactly what it is. She looks up at Sam, shaking her head. "The Reaper?" she asks quietly. The tears come again when the pointer slides to "Yes".

"Dean, is it after you?" she asks quietly, her voice breaking. The pointer doesn't move.

"If it's here naturally there's no way to stop it," Tawny says, looking at Sam.

"Man, Dean, you're, uh…" he starts to say, but then he stops, shaking his head. "No. No, no, no. Um, there's gotta be a way." He stood, heading towards the door. "Dad will know what to do."

"Sam," Tawny calls after him, watching his back as he leaves. "Sam, don't you leave me alone in here!" She looks back at the board, turning it towards her.

"Uh, so, Dean… What do you wanna do while Sam's gone?" she asks, rubbing her hands together before putting her fingertips on the pointer. Her eyes widens as she felt it being pulled, sliding over letters almost effortlessly.

"F… U… C…" she recites. "Dean Winchester!" she yells when it lands over the K. She stands, shaking her head. She walks over to his bedside, looking down at him.

"When you wake up, you pervert, I'm so gonna kick your dumb ass."

* * *

It doesn't take Sam long to get back with John's journal, and the first thing he mentions is that John isn't in his room, which worries Tawny slightly. Sam opens the journal and immediately starts reading, so Tawny goes down the hall to get a cup of coffee, letting Sam do his thing in peace. She walks back slowly, pausing when she hears the book slam shut. Sam starts speaking, so she stays out of eyesight, listening.

"Dean, are you here?"

She hears Sam sigh before continuing. "I couldn't find anything in the book. I don't know how to help you. But I'll keep trying, alright? As long as you keep fighting." She hears a sniffle and has to blink back her own tears.

"I mean, come on, you can't…" he starts again, chuckling. "You can't leave me here alone with dad. We'll kill each other. You know that. Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again."

Sam stops, and Tawny thinks it's the perfect time to walk back in, so she wipes away her tears and rounds the corner just as the unexplainable happens. Dean shoots up, coughing and gagging against the tube down his throat. Tawny looks up at Sam, frozen with shock. Sam, however, shouts for help.

* * *

 **Three Days Later**

Tawny's on the couch in the study when Dean comes downstairs for the first time since he'd gotten back from John's makeshift funeral. He'd only gotten out of the hospital that morning, Tawny managing to convince the hospital to release his body to her. She didn't mention the hearse she had belongs to a funeral home across town. She'd helped Sam and Bobby put his body in the back of Bobby's tow truck, ashamed of how they had to cover him with a tarp. Dean had watched her closely as she carefully tucked it around his head, apologizing.

He'd been silent on the drive back, too. Sam had ridden with Bobby, not wanting Dean to have to ride with his father's body, so Dean sat in the passenger's seat of Tawny's rental, only speaking once, when he told Tawny they needed to pull over. Then, when they got home that night, Sam and Dean took John's body out to the woods behind the house and cremated it. Tawny and Bobby both offered to help build his pyre, but the boys refused, wanting pay their father this last respect. So they stayed in the house that night, Bobby pretending to watch TV, Tawny pretending to read, both so lost in their thoughts they only realized Sam and Dean were back when Dean had put his hand on Tawny's shoulder. He'd stayed in the room across from hers, the one he'd usually shared with John when they came to visit. She brought him food, but he didn't leave the room. Not for two days.

But now he's walking across the room in a clean shirt and pair of jeans, his feet bare. He smiles faintly at Tawny, who returns the gesture. "Hey," she says softly, sitting up and patting the seat next to her. Dean takes it, squeezing her knee as he sat.

"How're you doing?" she asks, crossing her legs and sliding a hand up to his shoulder. He shrugs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He turns to look at her.

"Fine, I guess," he says, but Tawny can hear the pain behind the words. She nods, though, knowing Dean isn't exactly into sharing emotions. They hold eye contact for what seems like hours before Dean finally speaks.

"Do you think we could ever, uh, you know, be together?" he asks, looking away shyly. Tawny's eyes widen, completely taken aback. She closes the book she is reading, and stares at the cover for close to a minute before answering.

"Do you want the truth Dean?" she asks, finally looking up at him. He rolls his eyes, leaning back.

"Yeah, that's why I asked in the first place," he teases. She smiles faintly before turning so she's facing him, her shins pressed into his thighs.

"Okay," she breaths. "Honestly? Yes, I do think we could be together. Dad would hate it, and he might try to shoot you… again. But, yeah, I think if we both try at it, we could be together."

Dean stares back at her like she'd said the exact opposite of what he expected. She raises an eyebrow at him, silently urging him to say something. She's relieved when he finally does.

"I was expecting for you to, uh, throw something at me or… something…" he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze. Tawny grins, putting a hand on his knee and pushing herself up. She reaches out her hand and he takes it, smiling up at her as he stands. Tawny gasps when he suddenly grabs her waist and surges at her, pressing his lips to hers in a powerful kiss. It only lasts a few seconds, but Tawny feels the weight of the world in it. He pulls back, a grin on his face, and Tawny shakes her head.

"Well, when you want something you're just a go-getter, aren't you?" she whispers against his mouth. He chuckles and takes her hands in his, leaning his forehead against hers.

"So, where's my car?" he finally asks. Tawny can't help the lump that forms in her throat. He still hasn't seen the damage to the Impala and she really doesn't want to see the look on his face when he does.

"It's out by the garage," she replies, looking up at him. "Dean… I have to be honest, it's pretty bad." She pulls away from him to look straight into his eyes. He grins.

"Well, duh, Sherlock. It was hit by a _semi_ ," he says. She shrugs and turns to walk out. "Don't say I didn't warn you then, smartass," she calls over her shoulder. Five minutes later they're weaving through junk cars on their way to the garage. Bobby is in town, probably buying more liquor, and Sam is… Tawny has no idea where Sam is.

When they finally make it to the car, Dean stops. Tawny glances up at his face, immediately regretting it. She watches as a lone tear falls down his cheek before he slowly circles the car, shaking his head. He's made it back to the hood and is peeking under it when Tawny walks up behind him, placing a hand on his lower back.

"Um, dad says you can use anything in the garage… Anything we don't have, he'll get for you," she offers, stepping back as he drops the hood. He looks around, walking away to grab a jack from inside the garage.

He's positioning it at the back of the car when Tawny puts a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't have to do this alone, Dean."

She's sure he thinks she only means the car, but he stares up at her, wrapping a hand around her calf gently.

"Yeah, yeah I do, Tawny," he responds softly. She nods, trying to will her tears back.

"Well, uh," she clears her throat. "If you need anything you know where to find me."

Dean nods, going back to what he's doing.

* * *

Dean is shocked at how many locks Tawny has on her door. He's glad she's moderately safe, but, _damn_ , eight locks? She'd only had three when he was here a year and a half ago. Dean pauses when lock number six gives a loud screech, glancing up and down the dark hallway to make sure Sam nor Bobby heard it. He listens closely for any sound signaling someone noticing the noise, but all he hears is the drone of the TV downstairs and snores coming from the room across the hall where Sam is spread out on a sofa bed.

When he deems it safe he continues, grinning mischievously when the bolt finally gives with a small _snap_. "Ha," he breaths quietly. "Gotcha, ya little bastard." The last two give easily, the bolts sliding away smoothly and quietly, with no fight whatsoever.

Dean grasps the knob, slowly turning it, wincing at a squeak that never comes. As soon as there is a crack large enough for him to squeeze through, Dean ducks into the room shoulder first, closing the door quietly and slowly behind him. He stands there for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. When they finally do, he glances around the room, seeing that it's arranged exactly the same as when he left. It's just as messy, too.

His eyes bounce from dresser to desk to night table before finally resting on the bed, where Tawny is buried under a mound of blankets. Dean can't help but chuckle, remembering how she used to crank down motel room air conditioners while on hunts, claiming she could always pile on more blankets, but she could only take so much off. A pair of large glowing eyes is watching him from the foot of the bed, and Dean panics for a moment before he realizes that it's a cat.

He takes a step forward, pulling back his lips in a grimace when a floorboard creaks. The cat jumps, vaulting off the bed to go cower under the desk, while Tawny only sighs in her sleep and rolls over onto her back. Dean breathes a sigh, slowly inching forward, grateful when the floor is silent, and he makes it to the edge of the bed without any more interruptions. He stands for a moment, just looking at the woman sprawled out in front of him. He's amazed at how much she's grown. He remembers her through childhood, first with pigtails and Oshkosh overalls, her cheeks chubby and adorned with freckles, then as an awkward tween, her hips skinny in too-big pairs of jeans and pulling at an uncomfortable training bra when she thought Dean and Sam weren't looking.

But now, now she's a woman. An honest-to-God, fully matured woman. And Dean can't help but hate himself a little for thinking that they have an expiration date.

Dean is drawn from his stupor when Tawny groans in her sleep, her arms stretching above her head as she arches her back. She slowly turns her body, her eyes fluttering open a fraction of an inch. Apparently that's enough to see the dark figure looming over her bed because the next thing Dean knows, a sharp pain shoots through his groin as her foot connects with it.

He bows forward, holding his damaged goods and wheezing. Tawny scrambles over to the edge of the bed, turning on a lamp. Dean closes his eyes against the harsh light, groaning slightly. "Dean?" Tawny asks, rubbing her eyes. Dean only groans again, nodding.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asks quietly, and somehow Dean knows she's glancing at the door worriedly. Then, with an edge to her voice, she demands "And how did you get past the locks?"

Dean finally glances up at her, his eyes still misty from the pain. She looks angry, yet almost angelic at the same time. Her hair is a complete mess; curls stick up at odd angles, some are wound together, and it's parted deeply to one side. Her eyelids are drooping, showing just how tired she is, her cheeks are lightly flushed, and her lips are red and swollen. He groans again, feeling a noticeable twitch beneath his hand through the pain.

Tawny stares at him incredulously for at least thirty seconds before heaving an exasperated sigh and throwing the covers back. She rolls her eyes, swinging her bare legs out of the bed to stand. Dean straightens as much as he can, grabbing Tawny's upper arm as she tries to pass him. She looks up at him, her brown eyes large and shining.

"Ice?" she says simply, pointing towards the door. Dean shook his head, only managing one word. "Bed," he says quietly, tipping his head towards it. Tawny watches him for a moment, and Dean thinks her eyebrows might knit in concern, but Tawny only shrugs.

"They're your balls, not mine," she says matter-of-factly, turning around and climbing back into the bed. She almost seems surprised when Dean climbs in next to her, clenching his eyes shut and letting out a hissed breath when his legs close a bit too tightly for comfort. The bed jostles and he feels Tawny slide down next to him. He looks at her when she puts a hand on his thigh.

"You okay, Dino?" she asks, that concern he thought he'd see a minute ago finally adorning her soft features. Dean nods, reaching up to brush a curl from her forehead. "Yeah," he answers quietly, his finger drifting slowly down her soft cheek. A faint smile appears on her full lips, parting them in a way that makes Dean's breath hitch in his chest. They stare at each other for the longest time, their eyes flicking back and forth, chocolate brown battling bottle green, almost as if they're trying to find one another's souls.

Dean's the first to look away, afraid that Tawny can see right through him, can see his weakness for her, and he doesn't think there is anything worse on this planet than showing weakness, whether it be physical or emotional. So he turns his attention to the lamp instead, turning the small knob until it clicks, once, twice, then off, bathing them in darkness.

Relying on touch, Dean reaches out blindly, finding the edge of the sheet and pulling it over him. He feels Tawny shift again, burying herself back into the blankets while simultaneously scooting closer to Dean. He extends his arm, letting Tawny rest her head in the crook of his neck. "'Night," she mumbles, yawning widely before sighing. Dean mimics the sigh before breathing his own "Goodnight" into her hair. _Yeap_ , he thinks, closing his eyes, _I'm in trouble…_


	3. Back In Black

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x3: "Bloodlust" belong to writers Eric Kripke and Sera Camble . The lyrics to "Back in Black" belong to Angus Young, Malcolm Young, and Brian Johnson._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tawny belongs to me._

 ** _Back in black, I hit the sack  
I've been too long, I'm glad to be back  
Yes, I'm let loose from the noose  
That's kept me hanging about  
I keep looking at the sky  
'Cause it's gettin' me high  
Forget the hearse 'cause I'll never die  
I got nine lives, cat's eyes  
Usin' every one of them and running wild_**

 ** _Cause I'm Back_**

"Listen to her purr! You ever heard anything so sweet?"

Tawny glared up at Dean, squished between him and Sam, a scowl on her face. He'd only finished fixing up the Impala two days ago. She'd helped him a little when he got back from the Roadhouse, restoring the leather, cleaning the blood and grit from the floorboards before putting new carpeting in, little stuff that her father had taught her over the years. She and Dean still hadn't told Sam and Bobby about their budding ardor; sure, they knew Dean was sleeping in Tawny's bed, and she knew they _had_ to see the little glances they would steal at each other from across the room, but she was almost positive neither had any idea that they were together. If her father only knew what Dean had done to Tawny in the garage on a regular basis, she was sure he'd break out his shotgun.

As far as secrecy, though, they were pretty good at it. Tawny hated that they had to hide, but stolen kisses in dark hallways and wandering hands late at night with bolts on the door added a kind of romanticism to the whole thing. But it didn't change the fact that right now she was pissed at Dean. Sam and her father, too, for that matter.

Yesterday she'd gone out in the early afternoon with a bucket, a couple sponges and some soap, planning on helping Dean scrub down the car. An hour later, after a half-assed cleaning and a quick romp in an old rusted-out Ford, the two made it back up to the house where Bobby told them he'd caught wind of a possible case. After Sam and Dean agreed to check it out, Tawny somehow got dragged into the conversation and Bobby suggested she go. She'd said no, trying to escape the kitchen-turned-war-zone, but Dean stopped her. After a two hour screaming match between Bobby and his daughter, Dean had packed a bag for Tawny and she was in her room, seething. She was still angry at 5:00 that morning when they'd gotten in the car, Sam literally carrying her to the car kicking and screaming so she couldn't run away.

"If you two wanna get a room, just let us know, Dean," Sam said, looking out the window. Tawny watched as Dean leaned forward to pat the dashboard lovingly.

"Don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand us," Dean cooed. Tawny rolled her eyes, tempted to point out that he was talking to a car, and that it couldn't actually _hear_ him. Instead she just stared out the windshield, glaring at nothing as Sam chuckled.

"You're in a good mood," he said, stretching his arm out over the back of the seat, and Tawny instinctively leaned into his side. She felt him look down at her, surprise, so she glanced up at him.

"I'm still mad at you," she reminded, tightening her arms over her chest. She saw Dean look at her out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head faintly before opening his mouth.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"No reason."

"I got my car, got a case. Things are lookin' up," he enthused, slapping a hand on Tawny's knee. She pushed it off without looking directly at him, but she saw in her peripheral vision that he was frowning slightly. She ignored it as Sam laughed.

"Wow. You hear of a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and suddenly you're Mr. Sunshine." Tawny rolled her eyes. She was sure if she had to put up with this for four more hours, someone was going to end up hog tied in the back seat.

"How far to Red Lodge?" Dean chuckled. Sam glanced at the map. "Uh, about another three hundred miles," he answered, and Tawny groaned, throwing her head back against the seat. Dean looked at her, his normal smartass grin lighting up his already handsome features. She wanted to slap him.

"Good," he said, leaning over to crank up the volume. Tawny only lasted another five minutes, between Dean's off key singing and the fact that the burrito Sam had eaten a hundred miles back decided to kick it into high gear. She leaned forward, turning in the seat and starting to climb over when she felt Sam grab her belt.

"And just where are you off to, young lady?" Dean asked, shooting her a sideways glance. She pivoted at her hips, her face right behind his ear.

"I'm going to sleep," she said, then she lowered her voice. "To think about all the ways I'm gonna punish you." She was sure Sam couldn't hear her over the wails of Axl Rose coming through the speakers. There was a pause while Dean regained his composure, then he waved to Sam, who let go of her belt.

"Thank you," she quipped, finally climbing in the back seat. She shoved their duffels against the door and curled up on her side, closing her eyes to at least attempt to go to sleep.

* * *

They got to Red Lodge around dusk, Dean pulling into a small motel on the outer edges of the small town as Sam leaned over the seat to wake Tawny up. He didn't succeed until Dean had parked and was out of the car, and when Sam got out he was nursing a sore hand.

"I don't see why you have to be so mean about it, Tawny," he whined, holding it to his chest. Tawny slammed the door.

"I don't see why you have to be such a baby about it, Sam," she retorted sharply before stalking off to find the restroom. By the time she got back she'd given up on planning her escape. They'd dragged her 800 miles and even if she did get back home without some whack job in a truck killing her, she knew her father would lock her out and make her sleep on the porch with Rummy. So she walked back to the car, no fuss, but with a scowl still present, and stood there with Sam, patiently waiting for Dean to get back.

"So, did you enjoy the scenery?" Sam asked nervously, trying to make small talk. Tawny slowly turned her head to look at him, an eyebrow raised daringly.

"Look, Tawny," Sam scoffed, "Is it us? Or the actual hunt?" he asked, standing up straight and facing her. Before she could answer the door to the motel office opened and Dean walked out, two keys in hand. He tossed one to Sam as he circled the car, opening the door to reach into the back seat and grab his and Tawny's bags. Dean finished the circle, walking past Tawny. She held her arm out but he ignored it, walking past her to round the corner at the edge of the parking lot. She rolled her eyes, looking over to see Sam watching her like a guard dog.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going," she surrendered, holding her hands up in defeat. She followed Dean's path, her old brown boots noisy against the cement sidewalk. Dean was holding the door open when she got to it. She glanced around, seeing this room was just like every other she'd been in. She grabbed her bag from Dean's grasp, heading over to the bed that was pushed up to the wall, opening it and rummaging. Sam snorted when she turned, a lacy translucent baby blue bra hanging off her finger.

"Really, Dean?" she demanded, an eyebrow raised and her hand on her hip. Dean shrugged innocently.

"You never know. You might need it," he said. Tawny rolled her eyes, shoving it back in the bag, muttering incoherently as she continued digging. Sam was pretty sure that "whiskey" and "shotgun" were both used. Finally she straightened, a small zippered bag in her hand. She was at the bathroom door with her hand on the knob when Dean walked up and grabbed her wrist.

"Hold up. Window check," he said, and Tawny groaned, opening the door. Dean leaned in and switched on the light, looking in, then, apparently satisfied, he waved her in. The door was almost closed when he grabbed it. Tawny leaned out, her face tight with anger.

"What?" she spat. Dean looked at Sam quickly before turning back to her.

"Why are you so pissed off about this hunt? You're a _hunter_ ," he said, raising his eyebrows at her. Tawny scoffed.

"None of your business, Dean."

Before Dean could press the issue, Sam took a step towards her, raising his hand accusingly.

"No, Tawny! You're not allowed to play that card! Not after what you said to dad. You took us in, you're a part of this hunt, so we have a right to know what the hell is going on with you," he said loudly, his voice tinged with anger and hurt. Tawny stared at him, a look of shock on her face. Sam had only raised his voice to her a handful of times since they were five.

"Fine! You want to know what's wrong? You call my father and ask him! He's the one who made me come on this stupid hunt!" she yelled back, yanking the door out of Dean's grip and slamming it. Dean stared at the door for a moment before turning to his brother. Sam's chest was heaving, his eyes flaring.

"What the hell was _that_?" Dean whispered, hooking his thumb at the door. Sam shook his head, grabbing his coat. He'd made it to the door when Dean came up behind him.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked, grabbing Sam's shoulder. He shook it off, pulling the garment over his shoulders.

"Food," he said plainly, walking out the door. Dean just stood there, staring at the closed door, a look of surprise on his face.

"God," he breathed, looking around with raised eyebrows. "It's like being on _Days of Our Lives_ or something."

* * *

Tawny was livid. She was angry at Sam for prying into her personal life, at Dean for bringing it up, and, most of all, at her father for making her go on this hunt. He knew why she didn't hunt anymore; she didn't trust herself. She turned on the shower, turning to look at herself in the mirror as steam filled the room.

"Don't you dare let them down, Tawny Lee Singer. They're all you have," she hissed, glaring at her reflection. She stripped and climbed into the shower, letting the near scalding water beat down on her back. She went into auto-pilot, methodically cleaning as her mind raced with memories and hypotheticals. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she let the water run cold before getting out. When she walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her slender frame and her hair damp around her shoulders, Dean was sitting on the bed leaning against the pillows propped up on the headboard. She didn't look him in the eye as she walked over to the bed, once again rummaging through her bag for a change of clothes.

"So I, uh, called your dad," Dean said quietly. Tawny paused, a lump forming in her throat. She swallowed.

"What – Did you get your answers?" she asked, her voice soft, but still edgy. "No," he answered, playing with the phone in his hand.

"He said it was something I needed to hear from you."

He leaned forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand out of the bag.

"Tawny," he pleaded, sitting up. She looked up at him, tears filling her eyes. She sat, leaning into his chest when he shifted, letting her settle between his legs. He lifted a hand to slide her hair off of one shoulder, then traced her clavicle with the tip of his middle finger. His face dipped to her neck, suckling softly at the flesh behind her ear.

"Talk to me, sweetheart, s'why I'm here," he murmured against her hair. She looked at her lap, letting her hands fall palm up on top of her knees.

"It was three years ago, right before you and your dad came by, you know, when my dad threatened to shoot him?" she said. Dean hummed his response, pressing his lips to the back of her shoulder. She could feel him breathing against her skin, and she took a breath before continuing.

"I'd been seeing a local hunter, Cam Wentworth," she started, speaking slowly. "We'd been together for a few months, and he convinced me to go on a hunt. We, uh, we were in Ohio tracking a Wendigo – it had killed a family on a camping trip. We'd been after it for a week. The damn thing was good at keeping a low profile."

She paused, closing her eyes and swallowing back tears. Dean's hand ran across her shoulders, and she continued.

"It was late and we'd been sleeping in a tent. If it weren't for the fact we were hunting a monster it would've been romantic," she said, smiling sadly. A tear fell down her cheek.

"We, uh, we were distracted," she said, her voice thick with tears. Dean stiffened, and Tawny knew what he wasn't asking.

"Yeah, we were pretty hot and heavy," she said, turning to face him. He nodded, silently urging her to continue.

"Anyways, the Wendigo attacked. He ripped the tent and grabbed Cam, and somehow I got out. I really don't even remember doing it, but I grabbed a log from the fire and killed it. But not before I could save Cam," she said. She stared at her lap, tears streaming down her face. Dean sucked in a breath.

"So that's why you didn't want to go on the hunt? 'Cause you're afraid of getting me or Sam killed?" he asked quietly. Tawny nodded slowly.

"Yes and no," she whispered. She turned, bending her knee over his thigh. "Dean, we're together. We can't afford to get distracted like that. Not if the repercussions involve me losing you. I'm good at a lot of things, Dean, but not losing people. Especially people I love."

Dean reached up to wipe a tear away.

"You love me?" he asked, leaning his forehead against hers. She nodded, letting her eyes drift shut. She felt a puff of air against her lips.

"Aww, that's so sweet," Dean crooned. She pulled back, laughing, and hit his shoulder. "Dean!" she scolded, but she melted into the kiss he pressed to her lips. His tongue dipped in to flirt with hers momentarily before he pulled away.

"I love you, too, Short Stack," he said against her mouth. She hit him again, lighter this time.

"You know I hate that nickname," she muttered. Dean smiled.

"Too bad, Short Stack. Go get dressed. Gigantor should be back any minute," he said. Tawny stood, grabbing a pair of panties and an oversized shirt. "Do you call anyone by their real name?" she asked. Dean shook his head, looking up at her innocently, and Tawny rolled her eyes. She leaned down and kissed him softly before heading to the bathroom.

"Hey, Dean," she called from the door. He looked up at her, his eyebrows raised. "Can you, um, can you not tell Sam what I told you? Not yet, anyways," she asked, frowning at him. He nodded.

"Sure."

* * *

Tawny had been on the computer for four hours straight when Sam and Dean got back from seeing the Sheriff and going to the morgue. They brought lunch, the smell of greasy burgers and fries wafting through the air reminding Tawny of just how hungry she was. Dean kicked the door shut, dropping the bag on the table next to her. Tawny grabbed it, unrolling the top and fishing out a fry.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked, shrugging off his suit jacket and hanging it haphazardly on the back of a chair before sitting down. Tawny shook her head, swallowing.

"Nothing. No history of cattle deaths and the last decapitation was 83 years ago. A guy named Harold Russick was working on his truck and it fell on him," she said, tucking a leg under her. She looked up at Sam, who was nodding slowly. She smiled faintly at him, but he didn't return it, turning to grab a pair of jeans off of the floor. He stalked into the bathroom and closed the door, not quite slamming it but there was still a significant smack of wood against wood. Tawny closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head.

"He's still mad at you," Dean said quietly, tossing a burger in her direction. She picked it up, unwrapping it. She didn't look at Dean.

"So, did _you_ find anything?" she asked, taking a bite. There was something she found soothing about the greasy, earthy taste. It reminded her of being a kid, stuck in the back seat of the Impala mushed between Sam and Dean while John and Bobby spoke in hushed tones. Dean nodded, swallowing half a mouthful of his own burger.

"Yeah, actually. The sheriff was completely useless. The man doesn't _believe_ in cattle mutilation, says bloating and gravity did it," he mumbled, pausing to swallow the rest and wash it down with a sip of soda. "But get this. We went to see the body. You know that cult in Florida with the reverse pentacles on the foreheads deal? We were looking for that."

Tawny pulled away from taking another bite. "Did she have one?"

"Well, no," Dean said, looking at her. "But then we looked down her throat to see if the guy that sliced and diced her stuffed anything down in, like in Silence of the –"

"Did he?" Tawny interrupted eagerly, leaning forward, her eyes wide. Dean couldn't help but chuckle.

" _No_ ," he said emphatically "but what we _did_ find was much more interesting."

He paused dramatically, and Tawny just stared. He grinned. "A fang."

"On the body?" Tawny inquired, sitting up straight, her burger forgotten at this point. "Do you think whatever killed her left it?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope, it was hers."

* * *

Tawny always felt at ease in bars. They were a refuge, a place where you could be anyone. Tawny had taken a variety of roles in bars: The lonely divorcee, the shy girl-next-door, the flirtatious co-ed, the biker chick no one wanted to mess with, the cop looking to drink away yesterday's case. But tonight she was herself, just a girl going into a bar with her boys. _Her boys_. It was a term she'd always loved. They gave her an anchor, something to turn to when the shit hit the fan. Now, as they stepped into the smoke-hazy dive, she grinned, knowing how lucky she was to be able to care about them enough to be willing to give her life for them.

The trio crossed the room, Tawny watching the patrons out of the corner of her eye. They made it to the bar, Tawny leaning against it as Dean nodded to the bartender.

"How's it goin'?" he said nonchalantly. The bartender glanced up.

"Livin' the dream," he answered, picking up a glass and shaking it dry. "What can I get for you?"

"Three beers, please," Dean answered. The bartender turned, grabbing three bottles before Tawny could speak.

"Actually, make mine a double shot of Jack," she said, shooting a sideways glance at Dean, who was staring at her like she was speaking in tongues. The bartender raised his eyebrows.

"What? Girls can't drink liquor?" she asked incredulously, looking between them with wide eyes. Dean shrugged. The bartender set two of the beers down on the bar before turning to put the third back and grab the square bottle off the shelf.

"So, we're looking for some people," Sam started as he poured. He looked up, returning the bottle to its shelf with a smirk on his face.

"Sure. It's hard to be lonely."

Sam looked at Dean before reaching into his pocket.

"Yeah, but, um, that's not what I meant," he replied, sliding a $50 bill across the bar. The bartender looked at it for a moment before taking it. Sam glanced over again, catching Tawny's eye as she took a gulp of her drink.

"Great, so, uh, these people would have moved here about six months ago," he said, leaning into the bar. "Probably pretty rowdy, like to drink."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, raising his beer. "Real night owls, you know, sleep all day, party all night." He took a swig of beer. The bartender put his hands on the bar, leaning forward.

"Barker farm got leased out a few months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot – drinkers, noisy. I had to 86 'em once or twice."

The three exchanged looks. Dean thanked him, taking another quick gulp before turning. Tawny downed the rest of her whiskey, smiling at the bartender before following them out. They'd almost made it to the door when she noticed a still smoldering cigarette laying in an ashtray, a half full mug of beer sitting next to it. She waited until they'd made it outside to say something.

"Dean," she said, grabbing the back of his jacket lightly. He turned, raising his eyebrows at her.

"I think one of 'ems here," she whispered, glancing around the parking lot. Dean did the same, turning back to Sam. He nodded towards the alley and they made their way into it. She could feel someone watching her and had to resist the urge to turn around, knife drawn, but she knew if she did it would give them away, and they couldn't afford that. So instead she stared straight ahead, turning the corner. Dean tapped her wrist lightly, nodding towards an open doorway they could duck into. Once they were concealed Tawny took out a compact, aiming it so she could see down the dark alley.

She knew he was trouble the minute she saw him round the corner. He moved like he knew what he was doing, but she almost laughed out loud when he turned his back to them. She nodded to Sam and Dean, closing the compact and slipping it into her pocket with her left hand, unsheathing the hunting knife she had concealed at her back with her right. They were at his back in seconds, grabbing him as he turned around. They slammed him against the wall, Sam and Dean holding his shoulders as Tawny pressed one hand to his chest, the blade of her knife resting against his jugular.

"Smile," Dean said harshly. The man looked at him. "What?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. Dean tightened his grip.

"Show us those pearly whites," he urged. The mystery man looked between them.

"Oh, for the love of – you wanna stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire," he said, staring down at Tawny. She leaned in, adjusting the blade. "Yeah, that's right. I heard you all in there."

"What do you know about vampires?" Sam asked skeptically. The man glanced at him before answering.

"How to kill 'em. Now seriously, girl, that knife's makin' me itch."

"Just open your mouth and I'll put it away," she offered, a small grin on her face. He leaned over slightly and Sam yelled, grabbing his shoulder.

"Hey, easy there Chachi," he said calmly, lifting a hand. He pulled his upper lip up to expose the gum. "See? Fangless. Happy?"

Tawny glanced at Dean, who nodded. She pulled back, lifting her jacket to slide the knife back into its sheath. She looked back up at him, glaring.

"Now, who the hell are you?"

* * *

"Clock me one."

Tawny looked back at Dean, her eyebrows raised. After getting the crap beat out of him by Gordon, she couldn't see why he would want Sam to give him another bruise. But apparently he did. Sam seemed to share in her confusion because he just stared back.

"What?"

"C'mon. I won't even hit you back," Dean urged, adjusting his stance to brace for the impact. "Let's go."

Sam laughed, glancing at Tawny, who was still thoroughly stumped.

"No," Sam said, shaking his head at his brother.

"Let's go, hit me! You get a freebie! Come on!" Dean continued. Sam waved at him weakly, turning to walk away.

"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a rain check," he threw over his shoulder. Dean walked up to Tawny's side. She looked at him for a minute before balling her fist and hitting him in the shoulder, hard.

"Ow!" he yelled, holding his bicep, as Sam turned, staring at the two. "What the hell was _that_ for?" Dean whined, a pathetic look on his face.

"That was for dragging my ass out here. And," she smacked his chest with an open palm " _that_ was for not listening to me when I said we should get the hell outta dodge."

Dean whimpered, cowering away from her. She moved towards him again, putting a hand to his cheek and kissing the corner of his mouth. "And that was for defending your brother," she finally said, turning to look at Sam. He was watching them, his mouth twisted up in a confused grin. Tawny only shrugged, walking over to the car and opening the door. She slid into the middle of the front seat, kicking off her boots.

"You boys comin'?" she called, looking around at them.

She heard Dean faintly as he walked up to the car. "I wish we never took this job. It just jacked everything up." Tawny bit back an I-told-you-so and stared straight ahead. Sam stopped next to the open passenger's door.

"What d'you mean?" he asked. Dean sighed.

"Think about the hunts we all went on, Sammy. Our whole lives," he said. Tawny leaned over and rolled down the window, pulling herself out of it to sit on the door. Sam glanced at her. "Okay," he said. Dean put his forearms on the roof of the car, leaning forward on it. Tawny glanced at him, putting a hand on his back.

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing?" he asked, guilt lacing his voice. Sam's eyebrows were knit in concern. "You know," he continued. "With the way dad raised us, and the way Bobby raised you." He looked pointedly at Tawny.

Sam looked away for a moment, staring at the sunrise. Tawny had seen the look on his face probably a hundred times growing up; sadness mixed with the need to console his big brother. It didn't fade as he turned back to look at Dean.

"Dean, after what happened to mom… Dad did the best he could," Sam said softly. Dean looked away, his expression leaving a constricted feeling in Tawny's chest.

"I know," he agreed, his voice quiet. "But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things – man, I _hate_ 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn't even think about it. Hell, I even enjoyed it."

Tawny had reached out and grabbed his hand before she was aware she'd moved, but Dean took it, squeezing tightly. The hand on his back moved up, looping around the back of his neck. Sam watched the movement closely before speaking.

"Yeah, but you didn't kill Lenore," he pointed out gently. Dean shook his head.

"No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all."

"Yeah, but you didn't, and that's what matters," Tawny said, squeezing his shoulder. He looked up at her, not even bothering to fake a smile. "And, for what it's worth, I think your Daddy did a great job of raising you both to be good men," she added, her eyes shining as she looked between them. There was a long pause, the silence only broken by Dean's soft "Yeah" of agreement. Then he wrapped his arm around Tawny's waist, squeezing tightly.

"But that's only cause you were a pain in his ass," Dean pointed out, pulling her out of the window. He slid an arm under her knees, making sure her socked feet didn't touch the dusty driveway, drawing a laugh from Tawny. "And Sam's a pain in mine."

Sam chuckled, looking away. "I guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass then," he said, leaning down to climb into the seat. Dean watched him, his face dropping back into a frown for a moment. Tawny kissed his cheek lightly.

"You gonna put me down?" she asked, and Dean grinned.

"Sure thing."


	4. Hooked on a Feeling

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x6: "No Exit" belong to writer Matt Witten. The lyrics to "Hooked on a Feeling" belong to Mark James._

 _Tawny belongs to me._

 _ **Lips as sweet as candy,**_

 _ **Their taste stays on my mind.**_

 _ **Girl, you keep me thirsty for another cup of wine.**_

 _ **I got it bad for you girl, but I don't need a cure,**_

 _ **I'll just stay addicted, if I can endure**_

 _ **All the good love, when we're all alone**_

 _ **Keep it up girl, yeah you turn me on.**_

If Tawny sat down to calculate it, she probably would have found that she'd spent weeks waiting on the front porch, staring down the driveway, her stomach doing flips as she waited to hear the rumble of the Impala turning off of Route 29 onto their property. She would sit there, sometimes for hours, longing for her father. Once, when she was nine, she sat out there all night, fidgeting until she saw John pulling up, Bobby in the passenger's seat. There was even a worn spot in the old wood, starting out small and growing with her. Now, here she sat, fidgeting like she did when she was little, waiting to hear the familiar growl of the Impala. Only this time she wouldn't be throwing herself into Bobby's arms, burying her face in his vest; she'd be jumping on Dean, hugging him close. Hearing him on the phone wasn't enough; the words "I'm alright" never made it real. She had to hold him, to see with her own eyes he was still in one piece.

She heard Rummy's deep bark before she heard the car, but as soon as she did she stood, jumping down off of the raised part of the porch, her feet bare on the dusty driveway. Dean was grinning at her when he pulled up. She approached the car as he parked it, turning off the ignition as she fumbled with the handle. She finally pulled the door open, watching as Dean climbed out. He was barely standing when Tawny was in his arms, holding him tight.

"Did ya miss me or something?" he joked, but his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. She breathed in his scent, leather and gunpowder and sweat and blood and _Dean_ filling her lungs and making her head swim. She heard as Sam got out of the car, the door smacking shut, and she pulled away. Sam was grinning at her.

"S'cute," he said quietly. Tawny rolled her eyes and turned, practically sprinting around the front of the car, building up the momentum to jump into Sam's arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her bare feet hooking at his lower back, and she looped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing tightly.

"I missed you, Sammy!" she said, enthusiasm that wasn't entirely sarcastic in her voice. Sam laughed, hugging her back. She pulled away, her arms still around his shoulders, his holding her up.

"I heard about your hand," she said quietly, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm sorry."

Sam shrugged. "Job hazard," he said simply, and Tawny nodded. She looked around at Dean, who had their bags in his hands.

"Okay, you guys are adorable. Can we please go in now? I'm freaking starving," he said, heading towards the door. Tawny rolled her eyes. It was something she found herself doing a lot around Dean. She moved to get down but Sam tightened his grip, holding her there as he started walking.

"Sam! Put me down!" she laughed, smacking his shoulder. He only grinned mischievously, quickly climbing the four steps onto the porch and getting the door open with one hand. He walked into the kitchen, where Dean was digging around in the fridge.

"Lookin' for something?" she asked as Sam set her down on the counter. Dean glanced up at her, a sour look on his face.

"Beer," he grunted.

"Dad went into town to pick some up. He should be back soon," she said, sliding off the counter. Dean closed the door with a huff. Tawny watched him, knowing that the two weeks on the road after they'd dropped her off had been hard on him. He'd called her when they'd picked up the two cases since what she called the Gordon Walker disaster, trying to keep her in the loop as much as possible. He would tell her about their day and then sneak off to the bathroom, wishing it was Tawny touching him, his breath harsh in the phone until he came.

Now, here he was, standing in the kitchen, looking all flushed and upset and downright needy, and Tawny was suddenly fed up with the secrecy.

"Hey, Sam," she said, turning to look at him. He was sitting at the kitchen table and he looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "Dean and I need to tell you something."

Dean looked at her, his eyes wide. She scoffed at him.

"Oh, come on. You know it's easier just to tell him," she said. Dean finally gave in, sitting at the table across from Sam. She smiled faintly.

"Uh, Dean and I – we're, uh," she stammered, trying to find the words. She looked at Dean for help.

"We're together," Dean said for her, looking at his brother. Sam looked between them. "Together, like… _together_ ," he asked stupidly, and Tawny nodded.

"Yeah, Sammy, like we-have-sex-when-you're-getting-a-pizza together," Dean said sharply, leaning back. Tawny shot him a look while Sam cleared his throat.

"Well," he finally said awkwardly. "That's… I'm happy for you guys," he finished, smiling up at Tawny. She smiled back and was about to sit when Dean stood and grabbed her hand.

"If you don't mind, Sam, I'm gonna go blow off some steam," he said bluntly, dragging Tawny out of the room.

* * *

"Smells good."

Tawny looked up from the pot of stew she was stirring and turned to look at Dean. He'd showered and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and shirt. When he came over to press a soft kiss to her mouth she noticed that he was also clean shaven. She leaned into the kiss, sighing happily before he pulled away.

"What's for dinner?" he asked softly, peering over her shoulder to look at the source of the wonderful smell.

"Beef stew and biscuits," she said, turning in his arms to pick up a spoon and take a bit. She blew on it to cool it a little before offering it to Dean. "Tell me if it needs more Tabasco. I can never tell."

Dean took it, watching her as she held her hand under his chin to catch any juices, and she smiled when he closed his eyes and groaned appreciatively.

"Oh, my _God_ , that's good," he said, handing the spoon back. Tawny grinned widely. "Better be good, it's my mama's recipe," she replied, turning back to the pot.

She'd never discussed her mother with Dean. She didn't even think he knew how Karen died, let alone the part John played in the entire debacle, which was odd considering that it was the whole reason they knew each other. Dean didn't press the issue, only put his hands on her hips and softly kissed the small bit of collarbone that her shirt didn't cover.

"Well, it's perfect," Dean murmured against her skin. Tawny smiled again, knowing that he'd say that about pretty much any home cooked food, but feeling a small elation at the honesty in his voice. "Need any help?" he offered, pulling away. Tawny laughed openly.

"You, cooking? Sorry, sweetheart, but that's like Sam under a hood or Daddy reading a fairytale." Dean didn't look hurt by her words, just laughed along with her. "But," she said quickly before he walked out, "if you really wanna help you can grab those cans of biscuits and put them on that cookie sheet." She pointed to the counter running along the opposite wall, where, sure enough, two cans of biscuits sat on top of an old bent cookie sheet. Dean grinned as he walked over to the counter.

"What, no homemade biscuits to go with your mama's stew?" he joked, unwrapping the first tube. Tawny turned, a retort on the tip of her tongue, when Bobby walked in.

"You kiddin'? The last time she decided she decided to bake something I chipped a tooth," he said, walking over to the fridge to grab a beer out of it. Dean grinned at her, but Tawny only shrugged. Bobby took a long pull from the bottle in his hands. "This girl sure can cook, but she definitely didn't get that baking gene her mama had."

Tawny stiffened. Bobby never talked about his wife, especially not in front of Dean. But if Dean was surprised, he didn't show it, he only laid the biscuits out carefully, carrying the tray over to Tawny, who put it in the oven.

Ten minutes later they were all gathered around the table, Sam with a book lying open at one hand. Tawny took a few bites, looking at each of them apprehensively before speaking.

"I want – I've decided to start hunting again," she finally blurted out, looking at each face carefully. Sam looked up confused, clearly so wrapped up in his book he thought he'd heard Tawny wrong; Dean looked surprised; but Bobby… Bobby looked proud and almost sad.

Sam was the first to say something.

"We're heading out in a few days if you want to come with us," he offered, looking over at Dean for approval. He looked at Tawny, who was watching him with a suspicious look on her face. "Did you guys already find another case?" she asked, wondering if Dean had been planning on keeping it a secret until the night before they left, like he usually did. But Sam shook his head, swallowing a bit of stew.

"No, we were just gonna head to the Roadhouse, see if Ellen and Jo have heard about anything," he said, and Tawny leaned back in her chair. She glanced back at Dean, who had settled a little, relief softening his features. He was off the hook. For now.

"Okay," she finally agreed, looking at her father. He had his eyes on his stew, pushing it around with his spoon. "What now, daddy?" she asked, quiet but gritty. Bobby looked up, thoroughly confused.

"What?"

Tawny sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "What nothing. You keep telling me to get back out there, hunt some more dirtbags, but right now you look like I just told you I'm marrying Dean," she said, clearly annoyed. Bobby laughed, like he knew she'd never even consider Dean to be more than a big brother type. If only he knew.

"You're right, baby. I'm sorry. You should start huntin' again. You're damn good at it," he said, raising another spoonful of stew to his mouth, then lowering it. "And you know I wouldn't have this look on my face if you said you were marrying Dean," he added, finally taking the bite. Tawny and Dean exchangedt looks. "You… You wouldn't?" she asked carefully, trying not to give too much away. Bobby chuckled.

"Hell no. If that boy so much as laid a hand on you, I'd shoot his dumb ass."

Dean's eyes widened, looking between first at Tawny, then at Sam. Bobby didn't seem to noticed, just asked for Sam to pass him the biscuits.

* * *

"Los Angeles, California."

Tawny looked curiously at Dean as she opened the back door of the Impala.

"What's in L.A.?" she asked as Dean shut the trunk, pausing to look at him. He walked past her, letting his hand drift over her lower back.

"A young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult," he said, jingling his keys. She exchanged a look with Sam, somehow knowing exactly where this was going.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, taking the bait. "The girl got a name?"

Dean looked up. "Katie Holmes." Tawny rolled her eyes, moving to grab her bag. Sam chuckled.

"That's funny. And, for you, so bitchy," he jabbed. Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam off, but a loud crash and yelling from inside the Roadhouse distracted him.

"I'm going!" a girl yelled, and Tawny looked at Dean, eyebrows raised. She turned her head again as a woman yelled "Over my dead body!" and the girl quickly replied with "You're flipping out over nothing!"

"Of course, on the other hand," Dean said, looking between Tawny and Sam. "Catfight." He turned towards the building, Sam and Tawny following him to the door. The yelling got louder as they approached the building.

"I am your mother! I don't have to be reasonable!" one of them yelled, and Tawny supposed it was Ellen. She heard something slam. "You can't keep me here!" Jo screamed back.

"Oh, don't you bet on that, sweetie!" Ellen yelled back, followed by another slam. Dean opened the door and Jo's voice came through, clear as a bell. "What are you gonna do? You gonna chain me up in the basement?"

The trio walked in, but neither noticed. Tawny looked around and immediately loved the place. She'd been to a hundred bars, and they were all essentially the same, but each had its own personal charm. Like the women standing in the middle of the room arguing, for example. Ellen let out a sarcastic chuckle. "You know what, you've had worse ideas than that recently," she said, pulling a chair off of a table and setting it down.

"Hey, you don't wanna stay? Don't stay – go back to school!" she suggested, but Jo only glared. "I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection!" she said, hurt lacing her words. "Yeah, but gettin' yourself killed on some dusty back road – _that's_ where you belong?" Ellen quickly countered. Jo paused, glancing at them over Ellen's shoulder. Tawny grinned nervously as Ellen turned.

"Guys, _bad_ time," she said. Sam held up his hands. "Yes, ma'am," he said, and Dean chimed in. "Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway." The three turned to walk out, but Jo spoke up. "Wait. I wanna know what they think about this."

The door opened and a family walked in with matching Nebraska shirts. _"Dinner and show,"_ Tawny thought before she could help it. Ellen protested that she didn't care what they thought, but Jo persisted. The tourist man looked around nervously before asking "Are you guys open?" hesitantly. Ellen and Jo glared at him, yelling different answers at the same time. He grinned nervously and they turned. "We'll just check out the Arby's down the road," he suggested, and they left.

That's when the phone started ringing, and Jo stared at Ellen incredulously. She finally stalked around the bar, picking up the phone. Jo waited until she acknowledged the caller before holding out a folder to Dean. He stared at it.

"Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment," she says. Dean stared at the folder for a moment, then looked up at her. "Take it. It won't bite," she urged. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"No, but your mom might." They stared at each other for a moment before Dean finally took it, flipping it open to thumb through the contents. "And this girl wasn't the first," Jo continued, eyes flicking to Tawny for a second, looking her over. "Over the past 80 years, six women have vanished – all from the same building, all young blondes. It only happens every decade or two, so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer or –"

"Who put this together?" Dean interrupted, looking up at her. "Ash?"

Jo shifted uncomfortably. "I did it myself," she answered. Dean hummed what sounded like an approval, but Tawny wasn't sure. Sam looked at Tawny over Dean's shoulder. "I gotta admit, we hit the road for a lot less," he said. Before anyone could answer, Ellen walked over.

"Good. You like the case so much, _you_ take it," she said to Sam before looking at Tawny. "Whose this?" she asked, nodding at Tawny. Dean looked up and cleared his throat. "Oh, uh—Tawny Singer, meet Ellen and Jo Harvelle," he said, waving between them. Ellen stuck out her hand, giving her a strained smile. Tawny shook it, trying to make her own smile look genuine. Ellen paused as she pulled away.

"Wait, you aren't Bobby Singer's daughter, are you?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Tawny nodded. "One in the same," she said. Ellen laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Well, now. John always did say you'd grow up beautiful," she said, and Tawny smiled faintly, looking over at Dean. He in turn looked back at Ellen.

"Dad told you about Tawny?" he asked, and Ellen nodded.

"Yeah, Bobby, too. He used to talk about you like you were his own. Even carried your picture in his wallet, said it was for good luck," Ellen said. For some reason that comment made tears sting her eyes. She'd always been close to John, but she didn't know how much he cared, and that hurt her. Jo took the silence as an opportunity.

"Mom!"

But Ellen only turned, tears in her eyes. "Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. I won't lose you, too." She looked up at Dean, who looked at the ground, a look of almost-guilt on his face.

"I just won't."

* * *

The ride to Philadelphia was much more pleasant than the ride to Red Lodge had been. Tawny kicked off her shoes, tucking her legs up under her and even singing along to a few tracks that played through the speakers. Dean kept a hand on her thigh, his fingers tucked in the crevice behind her knee as he drove. Once they got there it was easy to sneak up to the girl's apartment and Sam worked the lock free.

When they walked in, Tawny glanced around, suddenly hating every motel room she'd ever stayed in. It was a nice apartment; open, with lots of natural light and clean lines. She glanced into the kitchen and saw that all of its appliances seemed brand new. She knew Dean would never go for a place like this, but she secretly longed for something this nice to come home to every day, instead of peeling wallpaper and the smell of booze that's seeped into the drywall.

"I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case," Sam suddenly said. Tawny set her bag down on the counter, pulling her EMF detector out of the side pocket. She flipped it on, watching as the brothers did the same.

"Well, maybe she put together a good file, but could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so," Dean replied, sweeping his own detector around. "You gettin' anything?"

Tawny looked up at Dean from the middle of the living room. "Nope," she said, turning back around. She heard Sam mutter "No, not yet", but then she heard the shrill tone of the detector. She turned to see Sam looking an opening in the wall, dabbing his finger at something. "What's that?"

As Tawny approached, she saw it looked like thick motor oil. By the time she made it over, Dean had picked up a bit on his middle finger and was smearing it on the pad of his thumb, feeling the texture.

"Holy crap," Sam said, and Tawny grabbed Dean's wrist, pulling his hand closer to look at it. "That's ectoplasm," Dean said, looking between the two of them.

"Oh, my god," Tawny said, her eyes widening as she stared at them. They both stared back, waiting for her supposed revelation. "I think I know what we're dealing with."

"What?" Sam asked, his eyebrows raised.

She lowered her voice, whispering dramatically. "It's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man…"

Dean snorted, looking at her with an expression of pride. "And that's why I love you…" he said, bumping her hip with his. Sam only scoffed.

"Guys, I've only seen this stuff once or twice," he said seriously, looking between them. "I mean, to make this stuff, you have to be one majorly pissed-off spirit."

Tawny stared at him for a moment.

"Well, yeah, I'd be pissed off, too… if I were that damn fat," she said, not being able to keep the giggle from lifting the last few words. Dean all-out laughed, looking at her fondly, but she was looking at Sam, who had his _I'm-trying-to-be-serious-so-will-you-please-just-cooperate_ expression plastered onto his handsome face. Tawny was sure he'd invented that look just for her. John once said that she was like a mix between the two of them; she was highly intelligent and good at finding information for a hunt, like Sam, but give her something to be sarcastic about and she ripped it to shreds, even outdoing Dean. There were times when Sam would start a debate with her, trying to goad her into an all-out argument, but all she would do was make jokes. Many of these times John and Bobby would be laughing so hard they were practically in tears, babbling about the look on Sam's face.

Dean regained his composure, the grin fading from his face. "All right," he said seriously. "Let's go find this badass before he snags anymore girls."

They'd barely made it out into the hallway when two voices drifted around the corner. Dean pulled Tawny into a concave doorway, Sam following. Her face was close enough to Dean's back that his scent was practically attacking her, filling her lungs with everything _Dean_ and making it hard for her to concentrate. As a female voice raved about the apartment she shoved her way in front of Dean, ignoring his scowl. Then they came around a corner and Tawny almost rolled her eyes. She stepped out, looking at Jo.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, a little more harshly than she'd intended. But Jo looked up and smiled.

"There you are, sis," she said, heading over to where the trio was standing dumbstruck. She leaned up and pressed her cheek to Tawny's as she hugged her, whispering a harsh "Just go with it" in her ear before pulling away. She turned, snaking an arm around Tawny's waist, then Sam's.

"This is my sister Tawny, her husband Dean, and my boyfriend, Sam," she said, smiling at the landlord. Dean made a huff of protest but Tawny shot him a look, not entirely sure why she was so keen to play along. The landlord smiled at Tawny.

"Good to meet ya," he said, offering his hand. Tawny took it. "Quite a gal your sister is."

"Yeah, she's a _pistol_ ," Dean chuckled, squeezing Tawny's waist. He looked down at her, his eyes defying the bright look on his face. Jo looked up at Sam.

"So, did you check out the apartment?" she asked innocently. "The one for rent," she clarified when no one answered. Sam spoke up.

"Yeah. Yes, loved it… Great flow," he said quickly. The landlord's forehead creased in confusion. "How'd you get in?" he asked skeptically.

"Oh, it was open," Tawny said quickly, looking over at Jo. She nodded.

"Now, Ed," Jo asked, putting on her poker face. "When did the last tenant move out?"

The landlord, now identified as Ed, tilted his head in thought. "Uh, about a month ago," he answered. "Cut and run, too. Stiffed me for the rent."

Jo nodded. "Well, her loss, our gain, 'cause if Sammy loves it, it's good enough for me." She smiled up at Sam, who squeezed her to him roughly. "Oh, sweetie," he ground out, sarcasm dripping from his words. Jo's smiled faltered as she reached into her purse, pulling out a wad of cash and holding it out to Ed.

"We'll take it."

* * *

"I'll flip you for the sofa."

Tawny looked up from her disassembled shotgun to look at Jo. She was staring at Sam. He shrugged.

"Does your mother even know you're here?" Dean asked suddenly, looking up from his pistol. Jo smirked, an over-stuffed folder in her hand.

"I told her I was going to Vegas," she replied. Dean looked at her doubtfully. "You think she's gonna buy that?"

Jo stared at him with her eyebrows raised. "I'm not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos."

Tawny looked up again, an eyebrow raised. "Well, at least you're determined," she said, grabbing a bottle of gun oil and soaking a cotton swab. She wiped down the barrel, rolling her eyes as Dean continued.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom. You shouldn't be here either," he said. Jo looked over at Sam and Tawny before turning back to Dean.

"Well, I am, so untwist your boxers and deal with it," she snapped, and Dean shot her a scowl.

"Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?" Sam asked. Tawny looked up, as curious for the answer as Sam. "Yeah. That's a lot of cash for someone to carry around," she added. Jo looked at her.

"Working at the Roadhouse," she said simply, and Tawny scoffed. "Hunters don't tip that well," Dean said, almost like he was taking the words out of her mouth. He was doing that a lot lately, and it kind of scared Tawny.

"Well, they aren't that good at poker, either," she shot back. Dean looked at her, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but his cellphone rang, distracting him. He fished it out of his pocket, answering with a trite "Yeah". Tawny looked up when she heard a woman's voice on the other line.

"Oh, hi, Ellen," Dean said, looking at Jo. She circled the table, angry whispers were hissed, and Dean gave in. "I haven't seen her… Yeah, I'm sure… Absolutely…"

He hung up and Jo grinned up at him innocently. Dean only rolled his eyes, grabbing his and Tawny's bags and heading for the only bedroom.

"Hey," Jo shot, following him. "Why do you get the bedroom?"

Dean turned, slinging the duffle over his shoulder. " _Tawny_ and I get the bedroom. For grown-up things," he patronized. Jo turned, her eyes wide.

"Wait, you two are…" she said, her hand waving between the two of them. Tawny blushed, going back to reattaching the butt of her gun. Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, so unless you wanna watch, we get the bedroom," he finished, turning and walking into it before Jo found words. She stood there for a second, looking at Tawny, who had finished and was clearing off the table. Jo walked over and picked up the folder, and they worked in silence to clear the table and then lay out everything Jo had. Tawny was actually impressed. Not only did she have current blueprints, but she had blueprints from the original layout of the building as well as neighboring buildings, maps of the city going back to the early 1900s, arrest records, and every other document Tawny could think of that would help. She, Jo and Sam sat down at the table, Tawny picking up a stack of pictures to flip through them.

Jo took out her knife flipping it in her hand as she looked at a blueprint. Dean walked out, standing behind Jo. "So, building history," he said quietly, pacing as Jo talked.

"This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago."

"Yeah? What was here before 1924?" Dean asked. Tawny looked up and watched him, rolling her eyes at the way he was grilling Jo. "Nothing. An empty field," she answered. The knife was a blur in her hands.

"So," Sam pitched in, looking up from the pictures in his hand. "Most likely scenario – someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell." Tawny nodded in agreement, looking at Jo.

"I already checked," she said. "In the past eighty-two years, zero violent deaths, unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor." She pointed the knife over her shoulder at Dean and snapped "Would you sit down, please?"

He did, grinning at Sam as he sank into the only unoccupied chair. "So have you checked the police reports, county death records –"

"Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing," she countered, looking at him.

"I think the jury's still out on that one."

Tawny looked between Sam and Jo, waiting for someone to have an outburst. It came in the form of Dean telling Jo to put the knife down. She did, and Tawny figured it was some type of a peace offering to keep Dean from hauling her ass back to Nebraska.

"Okay," said Sam suddenly, obviously trying to dispel the tension that had filled the room. "So, uh, it's something else then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it."

"We gotta scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right," Jo said, looking at Tawny. She nodded, hearing the question in what Jo meant as a statement. She looked at Dean, who in turn looked at Jo.

"Right, so, you and me—we'll take the top two floors," Dean said, standing. Jo followed suit, protesting.

"We'd move faster if we split up," she said, an edge to her voice. Dean shook his head, looking down at her. "Oh, this isn't negotiable."

Jo fell into pithy silence as they paired up, Sam and Tawny taking the bottom two floors, Dean and Jo taking the top two. She watched them closely as they walked out the door, an almost jealous feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. Sam walked up next to her, handing her an EMF detector. She took it, feeling a bit put off.

"He'd never do it, you know," Sam said suddenly. Tawny looked up at him, confused. "Cheat on you. He'd never do it – especially not with Jo," he continued, and Tawny rolled her eyes.

"Can we just get to work?" she asked tersely, walking over to the door and wrenching it open.

* * *

They ordered a pizza when they got back up to the apartment. Dean showed Tawny the piece of scalp they'd found, and she wrapped it in some plastic wrap before grabbing a pile of pictures, looking through them. She continued to look through everything Jo had collected; it was 11:30 by the time she'd finished. She excused herself to the bedroom to go to sleep, quietly telling them goodnight before retiring to the sweet seclusion behind a closed door. She'd just gotten her jeans off when the door opened again and Dean came in, quietly shutting it and twisting the lock on the knob.

Tawny didn't look at him as she grabbed a towel from her bag and headed towards the bathroom, flicking on the light. She walked over to the sink and brushed her teeth in silence, still avoiding Dean's eyes as he softly padded into the bathroom, his feet bare.

"Hey," he said quietly, walking up behind her. She bent as she rinsed her mouth out, drying her lips on the towel, not answering. Dean looked at her through the mirror, his concern obvious. She turned away from him, turning on the tap and sticking her fingers under the water, sitting on the edge of the tub as she waited for it to warm up. Dean followed her, sitting behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"What's wrong?" he murmured into her hair, pressing a few kisses into it softly. Tawny shook her head. "Nothing," she said, tensing when his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt. Dean chuckled softly.

"Bullshit."

Tawny rolled her eyes and pulled out of his grasp, standing. She lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it to the corner of the bathroom as Dean turned on the shower. "C'mon, babe. We've already done this whole silent sulking thing, and it doesn't work. Talk to me," he pleaded, pulling off his own shirt. Tawny looked at him, not speaking. Then his eyes darkened and he tilted his head, understanding all at once why she was upset.

"You're worried about Jo," he said. It was more of a statement than a question. Tawny scoffed. "Don't be an idiot," she said, rolling her eyes. Dean walked towards her, his hands reaching out to rest lightly on her shoulders.

"Tawny, I – she's like a little sister," he assured, rubbing her upper arms. Tawny looked away, not believing a word he said. It was just the way Dean was: A heartbreaker. She mentally kicked herself for believing he could be in a monogamous relationship. His fingers brushed up her neck, stopping under her chin so he could gently tilt her face towards his. She looked up into his eyes, the brilliant green almost melting her resolve. But she was mad, dammit, and not even the gaze that usually had her heart fluttering could break through it.

"She does nothing for me," he whispered, lowering his lips to hers. When she didn't lean into the kiss he pulled away, the hand on her arm sliding down to grab her hand and pull it up, pressing it to his chest. "I'm yours," he said, crowding into her space so he was flush against her, their hands pressed solidly together. The hand on her chin ghosted around to grip the back of her neck lightly as he pulled her into another kiss. This time she gave in to it, trying to pour as much feeling into the gesture as possible. His tongue ran along the seam of her mouth and she granted him access, and it floated around hers as he pushed her back against the wall. It was cool against her back and she gasped at the drastic conflict of temperature. He guided her hand down, pressing it into his groin where she could feel him, hot and hard inside a cloth prison.

He pulled away and they both gasped for air, his cheeks pink. "I'm yours," he repeated against her lips, putting more pressure on her hand. " _This_ is yours," he whispered. Her chest tightened and she let out a moan as she kissed him hard enough that their teeth smacked together, but the pain only heightened her arousal. Her free hand flew up to his chest, grasping the pendant around his neck to pull him impossibly closer, while the hand he held in his broke free. He groaned, disappointed at the sudden lack of pressure, but Tawny's hand was already working the button of his jeans loose. She pushed her hand into his jeans, her fingers expertly wrapping around his base, squeezing as she slid her hand to the head, twisting.

The moan he let out was almost pornographic and a generous glob of precome spurted into her palm, which she quickly used to slick up his head. He pulled away, moaning again when the tip of her thumb pressed into the cleft under it, a movement she knew he loved, and buried his face in her neck. " _Fuck_ , Tawny," he pleaded, and she moaned, her panties soaking through. His right hand found the wall, bracing him as he leaned onto it, the hand on the back of Tawny's neck moving down to find the clasp of her bra. He quickly snapped it open, pulling it off of her shoulder to get at a breast. He pinched the nipple and Tawny let out a low whine, her grip on him tightening enough to draw out another spurt of creamy precome. She pulled her hand out of his pants, roughly pushing them down his thighs and letting gravity do the rest while she did the same with her own underwear.

Dean's lips found hers again as he reached down and grabbed the back of her thighs, pulling her legs up. She in turn reached up to grasp his shoulders, pulling herself up until her legs were wrapped around his waist and their eyes were level. He leaned into her, using one arm to support her as the other dropped down to grasp his leaking cock. He rubbed it lazily and moaned, brushing his lips against Tawny's as he guided the head to her own moist entrance. Once flesh met flesh he thrust his hips, sliding into her with ease. Her head fell back and she moaned, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of his shoulders as his hand smacked against the wall, using it for support as he rolled his hips, but the angle wasn't right, so he wrapped an arm around her back, kneeling on the tile floor, still buried inside of her.

He swung her around, laying them both down onto the floor as steam began filling the room. "What do you need?" he asked softly, and Tawny looked up at him. His pupils were completely blown and he looked strung out and needy and all she wanted to do was lick his red, swollen lips. "You," she whispered, her hands cupping each side of his neck, her thumbs teasing the sensitive skin just behind his ears. "Just you."

He leaned down and kissed her, tenderly. Well, as tenderly as was allowed for Dean, but it was enough for Tawny. He started thrusting again, drawing another moan from Tawny. She arched her back and cried out as the waves of an orgasm hit, clenching around the organ that filled her like no other could, not even Sam. He didn't last much longer than her, thrusting six, seven, eight times before he was coming, too, her second orgasm milking him dry before he collapsed on her, softening inside of her warmth. After a minute or two of labored breathing he pushed himself off, pulling out of her with a filthy _squish_.

"You gotta get jealous more often," he breathed, kissing her softly before pulling her up with him. She glared, but leaned into his arms, craving his embrace. He pressed a few soft kissed to her temple before pulling back. "C'mon, before the hot water runs out," he said, pulling her into the shower.

* * *

The next morning Tawny woke before Dean. They hadn't bothered getting dressed, which was a good thing since Dean woke up around three with a raging hard-on. His chest was pressed up against her back, one arm under her neck and the other around her waist, and the heat was almost too much, but Tawny couldn't bring herself to move. It was rare that they got to just lay in bed, soaking up one another. But then Tawny remembered Sam and Jo were in the living room and the moment ended too soon. She sighed, gently lifting Dean's arm from her waist so she could slide out of the bed. She walked into the bathroom and relieved herself, quickly brushing her teeth before grabbing the button up Dean had discarded the night before and her jeans. She walked back into the bedroom and pulled a fresh pair of panties and bra from her duffle, quickly pulling them on.

She opened the door as she finished buttoning the top and walked out, shutting it softly behind her. Jo was sitting at the table, looking like she hadn't slept at all. She looked up at Tawny when she heard the door close and watched as Tawny padded across the room in bare feet.

"Morning," she said quietly. Jo only nodded. Tawny glanced at the couch, seeing a rumpled blanket and pillow, but no Sam. "Did Sasquatch go on a coffee run?" Tawny asked, pointing lazily at the couch. Jo nodded again.

"How much sleep did you get? You look like hell," she asked, pulling up a chair and sitting at the table across from Jo. Jo looked up. "I didn't," she said, flipping the same old knife in her hand. "I've just been going over everything."

Tawny looked at the knife in her hand. A three inch blade wouldn't do you much good against anything bigger than a Yorkie, so she made a snap decision and got up, going over to the bag she had left on the kitchen counter and grabbing a knife out of it. John had given it to her for Christmas when she was eighteen, and Tawny had always loved it. The blade was at least nine inches long, and three inches wide at its widest part and solid iron. The handle was also iron, shaped then painted to look like a horse's hoof. She'd been obsessed with horses then. Her initials, TLS, were etched into the bottom of the hoof. She pulled it out of its leather sheath, walking over to Jo and flipping it in her hand, expertly catching the flat of the blade between her fingers. She offered it to the blonde, who took it and looked up at her curiously.

"What's this for?" she asked. Tawny looked at Jo's knife then back up at her. "It'll work a hell of a lot better than that pigstick you've been twirling around," she said. Jo looked down, then held out her knife. Tawny took it, noticing instantly that it had some weight to it. She turned it in her fingers, pausing when she saw _WAH_ etched into the side. She assumed Jo saw her pause because she said quietly "William Anthony Harvelle" and Tawny suddenly felt ice drop to the pit of her stomach. It was her father's. She handed the knife back.

"I'm sorry. My mistake," she replied softly, taking back her own knife. She sat and looked at it, seeing her eyes reflected in the blade. They looked tired.

"What do you-" Jo started, but paused, unsure. Tawny looked up, silently urging her to finish. "I know about your mom, that she died when you were little. What do you remember about her?"

Tawny stared at her for a moment, taken aback. She'd never had to sit down and have "Girl Time". Usually her feelings were hidden away, like letters in a lock box. She realized it was nice to have a woman to talk to for once.

"To be honest, I don't remember that much about her. I was two when she died, so…" she drifted off, tears suddenly stinging her eyes. She looked back at the blade in her hands, leaning back in the chair and propping her elbows up on the table. "I remember her voice," she finally said, sniffing. "I remember her singing me to sleep."

"What did she sing you?" Jo asked. Tawny laughed sadly. The answer was too ironic.

"The Prayer of Saint Francis," she replied. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, finally looking back up at Jo. "What about your dad?" she asked. Jo smiled.

"I was still in pigtails when my dad died, but… I remember him coming home from a hunt. He'd burst through that door like—like Steve McQueen or something," she let out a sad laugh before continuing. "And he'd sweep me up in his arms, and I'd breathe in that old leather jacket of his. And my mom – who was sour and pissed from the minute he left – she started smiling again. And we were… we were a family."

"You wanna know why I want to do the job?" she asked, looking up at Tawny. Tawny shook her head. "For him. It's my way of being close to him. Now, tell me what's wrong with that?" she asked innocently. It put a funny feeling in Tawny's chest. "Nothing," she murmured, sliding her knife back into its protective case. She looked back up to see the bedroom door opening and Dean walked out, completely dressed, his lips still swollen from sleep. She had a flash of the night before and looked down, blushing. Jo, on the other hand, spoke.

"Morning, princess. How'd you sleep on that big, soft bed?" she asked, and Dean chuckled. "Wonderfully. It was especially nice around three. Right, babe?" he jabbed, pulling a chair up across from Jo. Tawny glared, but lifted her feet up to rest on his thigh. He put a hand on them, then narrowed his eyes at her.

"Why don't I ever get to wear any of your clothes?" he asked, his whine almost sounding genuine. Tawny smiled. "'Cause your boobs'd stretch 'em out, Pamela," she joked, and Jo laughed. Then the front door opened and Sam walked in, empty handed. Dean looked up, disappointed. "Where's the coffee?" he asked, and Tawny looked at him, unable to remember if one of them had mentioned exactly where Sam was. She guessed he was just so used to Sam being the early riser, so he automatically assumed he'd be the one to get the coffee every morning.

"There are cops outside," Sam replied, looking between them. "Another girl disappeared."

* * *

"A hundred and fifty-seven names?"

Sam stared at the list Ash had sent them like it was a monster he'd never come up against. Tawny looked over his shoulder as she tied her hair up, bunching it into a messy bun. Dean stood next to her.

"We gotta narrow that down," he stated obviously. "Or else we're gonna be digging up a hell of a lot of stiffs."

Tawny squinted at the screen as Sam scrolled, and one name jumped out at her. "Holy shit," she said, leaning over Sam's shoulder.

"Herman Webster Mudgett?" she said, and Sam highlighted the name. "Yeah?" Jo asked, and Dean looked at her. "Wait, wasn't that H.H. Holmes' real name?" Sam asked, turning to look at her. Tawny nodded.

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean said, nudging Sam out of the chair so he could sit down at the computer. His hands flew over the keyboard and he was silent for a few minutes as he read.

"Yep. Holmes was executed at Moyamensing May 7, 1896," Dean finally confirmed, looking around at Tawny. Sam sighed, a little grin on his face.

"H. H. Holmes himself," he said, looking between Dean and Tawny. "Come on. I mean, what are the odds?"

Jo looked up curiously. "Who is this guy?" she asked, and Tawny straightened.

"The term 'Multi-murderer' – they coined it to describe Holmes," she said, shoving her hand in her pockets. "He was America's first serial killer. He confessed to 27 murderers, but some put the toll at over a hundred. And, his victim flavor of choice? Pretty, petite blondes. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill his victims. At his place, cops found human remains – bone fragments and long locks of bloody blonde hair."

Dean looked up.

"Chloroform. That's what I smelled in the hallway last night. Boy, he sure knew how to pick 'em," he said, looking at the screen. Suddenly he looked up at Tawny.

"Wait, how do you _know_ all that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Tawny shrugged.

"I watch the History Channel. Why?" she said, tilting her head. Now it was Dean's turn to shrug.

"I dunno. It's kinda hot in that my-girlfriend-watches-shows-about-serial-killers kinky way," he joked. Tawny stared at him. He'd called her his girlfriend, which is something she'd never thought about until now. She just couldn't see herself calling Dean her _boyfriend_. It didn't seem enough to describe what they had.

Jo looked at Tawny. "So, we just find the bones, salt them, and burn them, right?" But Tawny shook her head.

"It's not that easy. His body is buried in town, but it's encased in a couple of tons of concrete."

"What? Why?" Jo asked. Tawny grinned.

"The story goes that he didn't want anybody mutilating his corpse, 'cause, you know, it's what he used to do," she said. Jo shuddered. Sam spoke up.

"You know," he chuckled. "We might have an even bigger problem than that."

Jo raised her eyebrows. "How does this get bigger?" she asked.

"Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago," he said, and Tawny groaned.

"Yeah," she said, taking over. "They called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory." She picked up a stack of pictures from the printer, handing them to Jo. "They had trapdoors, acid vats, quicklime pits. He built these secret chambers… inside the walls. He'd lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some, he'd suffocate, others, he'd let starve to death."

"So, Theresa could still be alive. She could be inside _these_ walls," she said with wide eyes. Dean stood.

"We need sledgehammers, crowbars," he said, grabbing his jacket. "We gotta smash these walls anywhere thick enough to hide a girl."

Tawny nodded, but she wasn't too hopeful they'd find anything more than a broken, bloody corpse.

* * *

Tawny was still trying to calm herself down, even as the stood in an open field, guarding the newly found hole in the ground. Tawny had called it her own personal doorway to hell. If there was one thing she couldn't handle it was small spaces. She knew exactly why, too. When she was six or seven John had brought Sam and Dean to the house while he went on a hunt. It was early June and absolutely beautiful outside, so she and Sam were out in the woods behind the house playing Hide-and-Seek. They'd been playing for hours, slowly working their way deeper into the woods. It had come upon Tawny's turn to hide so she ran off, not noticing a small sink-hole in the earth. She stepped on it, falling six feet underground. She wasn't physically injured, but she was unequivocally terrified. She yelled herself hoarse, but she wasn't found until well past night fall. She remembered crying in relief when she saw Dean's face poke over the side of the hole, calling out to Bobby before turning back to her, whispering reassurances. If she had to, she'd guess that's when her crush on Dean started.

So, no, the time she had to spend in the tunnels wasn't exactly peachy.

"So," Sam said, and she turned, her arms crossed over her chest. But he was looking at Jo. "Is this job as glamorous as you thought it would be?"

She laughed. "Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah," she replied. "But that Theresa girl's gonna get to live a life 'cause of us. It's worth it, isn't it?" She looked at Tawny, but Tawny couldn't bring herself to breathe steadily, let alone speak. So Sam answered instead.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," he answered. Jo looked at the hole then looked up.

"Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there or a storm washes the salt away?" she asked. Sam looked at her.

"Both very fine points," he said. "Which is why we're waiting here."

Tawny looked at him, confused. "Waiting for what?" Jo asked, and that's when a loud beeping started and Tawny turned, seeing a cement truck backing into the field.

"For that," Sam stated, grinning. Sam guided Dean and signaled for him to stop, and Tawny shook her head, grinning broadly as he walked around the back of the truck while Sam set it up over the hole. "You ripped off a cement truck?" Tawny asked, finally finding words. Dean shrugged.

"I'll give it back," he said, flipping a switch on the back of the truck. Tawny watched the grey semi-solid mixture flow, shaking her head again. Dean walked up behind her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. "Well, that ought to keep him down there till hell freezes over."

* * *

Tawny had been forced to sit through dozens of awkward silences, but the ride back to the Roadhouse was probably the worst. Ellen had been quiet for far too long and Tawny knew that couldn't mean anything good. They'd been on the road for close to an hour when Dean spoke.

"Well, you –" he chuckled, looking at Ellen. "You really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?"

Tawny looked at them nervously from the back seat before glancing at Tawny, who raised her eyebrows. Ellen didn't answer, so Dean changed tactics. He leaned towards the radio. "How about we listen to some music?" he suggested, flipping it on. A few chords rang out before Ellen leaned forward, turning it back off.

He looked at Tawny through the rearview mirror, and she raised her eyebrows. "This is gonna be a long drive," he muttered.

He wasn't wrong; the drive was painfully long, seeming twice the length of the already lengthy twenty hours. They finally made it to the Roadhouse around noon the next day, Sam, Dean and Tawny stretching as Ellen marched around the Impala, grabbing Jo's bag in one hand and her arm in the other, practically dragging her into the building. Sam, Dean and Tawny followed, and Tawny wasn't sure she could take the argument that was guaranteed to happen.

"Ellen…" Dean said as soon as they were inside. "It was my fault. Okay? I lied to you, and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there. I think her dad would be proud."

Tawny expected Ellen to forgive him, but instead she looked at him, sorrow in her eyes and resentment in her voice. "Don't you dare say that – not you. I need a moment with my daughter – alone."

The three of them walked out of the Roadhouse, Sam and Tawny sitting on the hood as Dean leaned against the driver's door. A few minutes of silence passed before the door opened and Jo stormed out, slamming it behind her. She looked up at Dean and pointedly turned away from him. Dean followed, though.

"That bad, huh?" he asked.

"Not right now," she said quickly, and Tawny could hear the tears threatening to fall in her voice. She slowly slid off the hood, walking up behind Dean. He reached out, touching Jo's arm, but she slapped it away. "Get off me!" she yelled, and Tawny stopped a few feet behind Dean.

"Sorry," he said roughly. "I'll see you around." He made it to Tawny's side and Jo spoke.

"Dean…" she said, her voice wavering. He turned back to look at her. "It turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone. This guy did, too. But I guess my father figured he could trust him. A mistake. The guy screwed up, got my dad killed."

Dean looked at her, confused. "What does this have to –"

"It was your father, Dean," she spat. Tawny's breath caught in her throat and she suddenly felt like throwing up. It all made sense.

"What?" Dean asked quietly. Jo shook her head.

"Why do you think John never came back, never told you about us? 'Cause he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that – that's why."

"Jo—" Dean started, but she interrupted him.

"Just – just get outta here. Please, just leave," she said, turning and walking off. Tawny watched her go, suddenly feeling guilty as sin. She'd acted like Jo was just some kid with no clue what was at stake, but now she knew different. Dean turned, his own guilt reflected in his eyes.

"Give her time, baby," she whispered, rubbing his arm. "Just give her time."

He looked up at the sky and nodded. "Yeah," he said gruffly, then turned and walked toward the Impala. They piled in and Dean started the ignition, shifting the car into drive.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, and Dean shrugged and put his hand on Tawny's knee like that's where it belonged.

"Anywhere but here."


	5. Wanted Dead or Alive

**_Disclaimer:_** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x7: "The Usual Suspects" belong to writer Cathryn Humphris. The lyrics to "Wanted Dead or Alive" belong to Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tawny belongs to me._

 ** _It's all the same, only the names will change  
Every day it seems we're wasting away  
Another place where the faces are so cold  
I'd drive all night just to get back home  
Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days  
And the people I meet always go their separate ways  
Sometimes you tell the day  
By the bottle that you drink  
And times when you're alone all you do is think_**

"Tawny, will you sit down, please? I'm sure he's fine."

Sam stared up at her from the chair he was sitting in, watching her as she paced. She looked at him, soothed by the look in his turquoise eyes enough to obey. She sat, still chewing on her thumb nail, fidgeting. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, dialing Dean's number and hearing it ring until the voicemail picked up. She snapped it closed, looking back up at Sam.

"Twenty," she said, setting it on the table. "I've called him twenty times and he still hasn't picked up."

Sam opened his mouth, but before he could speak there was rustling outside the door and he stood, looking out the window. "Tawny," he warned, but it was too late. There was a loud bang and the door swung open, splintered, the force knocking it into the wall. Tawny rose, looking at the SWAT team that barged in, half with their guns aimed at Sam, the other at her. A woman walked in, her gun pointed at Sam, and Tawny wasn't sure if this made her feel better or worse.

"Going somewhere?" she asked, lowering her weapon. The SWAT members didn't. Tawny looked up at Sam, her voice low.

"Son of a bitch."

* * *

Tawny was pacing again. She knew she wasn't under arrest; she'd been escorted to a squad car, but no one read her any Mirandas or cuffed her. This didn't do anything to relieve the knot in her stomach. When they'd gotten to the station, two uniformed officers took her to a room and left her there to the torments of her own mind. That had been two hours ago, according to the clock. But she didn't trust it, just like she didn't trust that this was just a file room. Sure, there were boxes bursting with papers, sitting on old rickety filing cabinets, but the mirror along the south wall told her this wasn't just going to be an interview. It was going to be an interrogation.

She'd just bitten into her left pinky nail when the door opened and the detective from the motel room walked in. Tawny thought her name was Ballard, but she couldn't be sure. The detective ducked in, smiling at Tawny as she shut the door behind her.

"Thought you might like some coffee," she offered, setting a cup down on the table. Tawny glanced at it, but turned her gaze back up to the detective after a moment.

"Why am I here?" she asked, walking over to lean against a particularly rusty filing cabinet. The detective smiled faintly at her. "I think you know."

Tawny rolled her eyes.

"Actually, I don't. So, please, enlighten me, Detective…" she lifted her name in a gesture, wanting a name. The detective opened a folder, her false smile still plastered in place. "Ballard," she confirmed, tapping the table. "Have a seat, Miss Singer."

She looked at her warily, only aware that she'd lifted her thumb back to her mouth when she bit down and tasted blood. Detective Ballard circled the table, pulling a tissue out of her pocket and moving to grab Tawny's hand, but she pulled away, so she just handed it to her. Tawny looked down, wrapping the tissue around her finger, watching the blood soak through.

"Please. Sit," she repeated, this time more of a demand than a request. Tawny did, crossing her legs, not touching the cup of coffee the detective pushed towards her.

"You never answered my question," Tawny said, looking expectantly at the woman sitting across from her. Tawny crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back, all while holding eye contact. She knew they were in serious trouble, and assumed Dean had the worst of it. After what Sam told her about the incident in St. Louis a little over a year ago, Tawny knew Dean was, quite frankly, fucked.

"You're here just to answer some questions," Detective said simply, rifling through the papers in the folder. Tawny saw they weren't just police reports; there were report cards, transcripts, photos, and, what caught Tawny by surprise, a letter with the Brown University header. She looked back up, her poker face hopefully still in place.

"And Sam and Dean? Just here to answer questions?" she asked. The detective looked up. "Sam is. Dean, on the other hand, is in a much more… precarious situation," she said, pulling a photo from the top of the stack. She slid it across the table, and Dean stared up at her. It was a mug shot. Her stomach dropped.

"What are the charges?" she asked quietly, picking the photo up. It was still warm from the printer.

"Your boyfriend is being held on suspicion of murder. He _is_ your boyfriend, right?" Detective Ballard tilted her head, and Tawny nodded.

"How long have you two been together?" she asked, but Tawny was silent. She wasn't going to give this woman any more ammunition than she already had, and she clearly already had a large store of it. She glanced at the mirror, wondering if there were detectives watching her. She resisted the urge to raise a middle finger just in case there were.

"They're all in with Dean," Detective Ballard suddenly said, answering Tawny's question. She looked down, reaching for the coffee but not raising it to her lips. She just rolled it between her palms, thinking. She couldn't get the image of Dean chained to a table out of her mind. She knew exactly how he'd act, too. He'd be cracking jokes, trying to come off as nonchalant and indifferent, but deep down he'd be scared. Probably terrified. From what she knew about St. Louis, he'd most likey be charged with Capitol Murder. She took a drink of the coffee, trying to get rid of the icy feeling in the pit of her stomach. It didn't work.

"Tawny, you need to talk to me. Dean – He's gone. We caught him with blood on his hands at a murder scene, and that doesn't even compare to what St. Louis has on him. So, now you need to focus on helping _you_ ," she said. Tawny looked up, glaring. She knew the detective was right, but that didn't change the anger she felt towards this woman for ruining her life. She didn't speak.

"Alright, since you're suddenly shy, I'll talk. I know all about you Tawny," she said, and Tawny scoffed in disbelief. "Tawny Lee Singer, born November 23rd, 1983, to Robert Stephen Singer and Karen Cathleen Leland, at 12:37 pm in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Your mother died the night of November 15th, 1985 from stab wounds sustained during a break in. Despite coming from a single parent home you excelled in school. Class of 2001 at Lincoln High School, you graduated with a 3.9 GPA and were accepted at Brown University with a full scholarship, but you declined it to work for your father. So, tell me, why would a smart young woman like you, with such a bright future, turn down a hundred thousand dollar scholarship to work in a junk yard?"

Tawny stared at her. She couldn't tell her the real reason she hadn't gone to Rhode Island four summers ago. She'd actually said yes to the scholarship and had already packed up to move when John showed up, yelling and screaming about something. When she got downstairs he was practically rabid, screaming at Bobby. When he saw Tawny, he turned on her, the accusations flying. She looked around for Sam, but he wasn't there. She only saw Dean standing in the hall with a look on his face Tawny would never forget. When she found out Sam was gone, that he just left in the middle of the night with just a note saying he'd gone to California, she nearly vomited. Then she went up to her room, called Brown, and locked herself in for a week.

"I didn't want to leave him alone," she said simply. Detective Ballard let out an aggravated sigh. "Tawny, _please_. You've got to be honest with me here. I am trying to _help_ you," she said emphatically, reaching out to hold Tawny's hand. Tawny pulled it away, averting her gaze to the door. There was a minute of silence as Detective Ballard watched her glaring at the door, then she sighed again.

"Alright, why don't you just tell me about Tony Giles? Everything you can think of," she said quietly. Tawny looked over at her.

"Fine. I didn't know him, Sam and Dean did. John and Tony were old friends, they fought in Vietnam together. When Dean found out he was heartbroken. He and Sam had known Tony since they were kids, so we came as soon as we heard that he'd been murdered…"

* * *

 **36 Hours Ago**

Tawny yawned, stretching her arms over her head before going back to the newspaper Dean handed her. They were outside of some coffee shop in a little town in Ohio, and it was way too damn early in the morning. She scanned the article, only picking up a few blurbs: "Prestigious lawyer", "murder", "no DNA, no prints", and, most importantly, "cameras failed to capture footage".

"So, what d'you think? Wanna check it out?" Dean asked, his arm draped across her shoulder, his breath puffing across her neck. She shrugged.

"Only if I get to check you out first," she said playfully, looking up at him to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He leaned into it, letting his tongue drift briefly into her mouth. When they pulled away he was grinning. "Of course you can check me out, you little minx, you," he said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. She huffed at it, annoyed that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep pieces of her shorter layers to stay up in a ponytail. She kissed him again, pulling away before his tongue got too frisky, and handing him the newspaper. He popped a pen in his mouth, holding it lazily in his cheek as he re-read the article. Tawny looked up to see Sam walk out, taking a long pull from his own coffee as he balanced hers and Dean's in his good hand. She knew he hated the cast and was tempted to take it off, but she made sure he didn't. None of them could risk any permanent damage to his shooting hand.

"Here you go," Sam said when he got to the table, setting the coffees down, still stacked. Tawny picked them up, smelling the top one, and she was hit with the stinging scent of black coffee. She wrinkled her nose, sliding it over to Dean as he pulled his right arm away from her shoulders to take the pen out of his mouth, flipping the newspaper around with his left.

"Anthony Giles," Dean said. Sam looked up. "Who's Anthony Giles?" he asked as Tawny took a swig of her own coffee. She relished the warm liquid, sighing happily. Sam _finally_ got the coffee-to-cream ratio right.

"A Baltimore lawyer," Dean answered, putting the lid back on the pen. "Working late in his office. Check it out." He picked up his coffee as Sam read, replacing his arm around Tawny's shoulders so she could lean into his side. They both sipped, watching Sam mumble his way through the article.

"His throat was slit, but the room was clean. Huh," he said, reading further. "No DNA, no prints."

Dean set his cup back down, keeping hold of it. "Keep reading, it gets better."

Sam squinted, quoting directly from the paper. " 'Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.'"

"So, I'm thinking either somebody tampered with the tapes…" Dean started, leaning forward, and Tawny watched as Sam finished the thought. "Or it's an invisible killer," he said. Tawny shook her head. She loved the way they thought aloud, almost as if they shared half of their brains. Dean leaned back again, lifting the hand with the cup in it to point at Sam. He clicked his tongue, a grin on his face, and said "My favorite kind." His hand went to Tawny's ponytail, playing with the loose curls. Tawny wasn't even sure this was a conscious action.

"What do you think, Scully?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Wanna check it out?"

Sam glared. "I'm not Scully. You're Scully," he shot back, tossing the paper back roughly. Tawny rolled her eyes. Dean grinned back. "No, I'm Mulder. You're a redheaded woman."

Tawny looked between them. "I know I'm gonna regret asking this, but if you two are Mulder and Scully, what does that make me and dad?" she asked. Dean smiled.

"Well, sweetheart, your dad would definitely be the Lone Gunmen," he said, and Tawny grinned. It was a good comparison. Then he looked at her, pulling her close. "And you? You—you'd be Skinner," he finished, standing. She followed, looking at him funny.

"Why would I be Skinner?" she asked, confused. Sam chimed in, throwing his own arm across her shoulders. "Because you're always saving our asses," he said. Tawny nodded, poking him in the ribs. "Yeah," she jabbed. "You better remember that, Jolly Green."

* * *

"So," Tawny said, lacing her fingers on the table. "Dean couldn't have murdered Tony since we were a few states away at the time."

Detective Ballard looked at her, clearly annoyed. "Just tell me what happened next."

Tawny blew a piece of hair out of her face before continuing.

"Sam and Dean went to see Karen. I didn't," she said, and the detective looked at her.

"Why?"

"I didn't know her. I thought it would be… weird. So I went to book us a motel room instead," she answered, taking a sip of her coffee. The detective stared at her, disbelief prominent.

"Tawny, I'm trying to help you here. You have _got_ to be honest with me. Someone saw you breaking into Tony Giles' office," she said, standing up to circle the table. Tawny sighed as the detective leaned up against it, looking down at her.

"Look, Karen called later, when we were all back at the motel. She said she wanted some things from his office that the police weren't releasing - keepsakes and a picture. Look, I know it's wrong to enter a crime scene, but it was for a good reason."

* * *

 **14 Hours Ago**

Tawny nervously glanced up the hallway again. "Dean, would you hurry up? It's not that hard to pick a lock," she whispered harshly, her hand tightening on his belt. He turned around and glared at her. "I'm going as fast as I can. Stop whining," he whispered back before turning his attention to the lock. Tawny sighed in relief when she heard it click back and Dean straightened, turning to look at her with a look of satisfaction. She rolled her eyes, pushing in front of him to duck under the police tape into Giles' office. Sam and Dean followed, all three pulling out flashlights and looking around the office. The first thing Tawny noticed was just how damn _clean_ it was. It was too clean.

"Hey," Sam said suddenly, standing behind a partition looking at the police report. "Anthony Giles' body was found right about here." He shone his flashlight on the floor and Tawny peered around the partition to see a large bloodstain on the tile floor. " 'Throat slit so deep, part of his spinal cord was visible'," he read from the report. Tawny didn't doubt it, with blood loss like that. Tawny looked up as Dean whistled.

"What do you two think? Vengeful spirit? Underline 'vengeful'?" he asked, looking between them. Tawny shrugged. "Seems like it. I mean, you said the wife told you he saw a woman standing at the foot of their bed?" she asked. Dean had told her everything, but she liked to check and make sure he didn't leave anything out. He nodded, picking up a sheet of paper from the printer as Sam sat behind the desk.

"Take a look at this," Dean said, handing the paper to Sam. Tawny walked around the desk to the fax machine where she picked up a piece of paper that had the same think typed over and over again.

" 'Dana Shulps'," Sam read, then he looked up at Dean. "What is that, a name?"

Tawny read the paper in her hand, and, sure enough, "danashulps" was repeated over and over again. "I dunno," Tawny said. "But it's everywhere." She held up the paper for Dean to see.

" 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'," he quoted, grinning at her. She shook her head, but returned the grin nonetheless. She glanced over at Sam, who was looking at the desk curiously. He bent down, blowing a warm breath across it to reveal their mystery word once again, this time appearing to have been written by finger. "Wow," he chuckled, looking at it. "I'd say we've officially crossed over into weird."

Tawny scoffed. "Yeah, Sammy. Cause our lives are so _normal_ , right?" she said sarcastically, turning to thumb through some files sitting next to the fax machine. "Maybe Giles knew her," Dean suggested. Tawny moved on to another pile of documents, this one twice the size of the first.

"Maybe it's the name of our pale, red-eyed mystery girl," Sam suggested. Dean grabbed a pile of folders off of the table Tawny was at. "Well," he said, throwing down the folders onto the desk almost sarcastically. "Let's see what we can see."

They looked for close to an hour, Sam sticking to the computer, Dean and Tawny going through files in another room behind a partition. Finally, at about 11:00, Dean slammed the last drawer on the last file cabinet.

"There's not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere," he said, walking into the main office. "There's not a D. Shulps or any other kind of freakin' Shulps." Tawny slumped lazily into a chair, shutting off her flashlight. Sam glared as he typed.

"Great," he muttered in response. Tawny looked at him. "Find anything?" she asked, practically pleading. But Sam shook his head. "Nothin'. No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years, at least," he said, squinting at the screen. Tawny and Dean looked at each other, both with looks of defeat.

"So, what now?" Dean asked, looking at Sam. Tawny pulled her legs up under her, just wanting to get some sleep. Sam stopped typing but didn't look up. "Well," he said. "I think I'm pretty close to cracking Giles' password. Maybe there's something in his personal files, you know?" He went back to typing and Tawny looked at him.

"By 'close', you mean…?" she asked, staring at him. He shrugged. "Thirty minutes maybe?"

Dean looked at his watch, then back up at Tawny. "Awesome," he said. "So, I guess we get to, uh, hang out." Tawny glared. "Will you sit down, please?" she snapped. He raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, tapping his fingers on the arms of the plush chair once he was seated. He turned to look at Tawny, a suggestive gleam in his eyes, and she knew exactly what he was going to say.

"Saw a private bathroom in the other room," he said. Tawny just looked at him, her eyebrow raised. He cleared his throat and continued. "Wanna go check it out?" he asked. Sam snorted and Tawny glared at him. "Are you in high school?" she asked, turning back to Dean. He only shrugged. That's when the noises started. The tongue clicking was barely tolerable, but when he filled his cheeks with air then let out a loud _pfffffffffft_ , Sam looked up.

"Dude, seriously," he said. Dean groaned and stood.

"Alright, I'm gonna go talk to Karen again, see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps. You comin'?" He looked at Tawny, but she shook her head. "Nah. I'll stay here, see if Sam ends up needing any help," she replied. Dean circled the chair, leaning down to give her a kiss. "Be careful, okay?" she murmured, but he only pressed another kiss to her mouth.

He walked away, turning when he was almost at the door. "Keep goin', Sparky," he said, shining the beam of his flashlight onto Sam. He glared until the door was shut. "Why do you choose to be around that idiot again?" he asked. Tawny grinned and shrugged. " 'Cause he has a nice ass?" she asked. Sam gagged and turned back to the computer.

* * *

"So, Dean went to check up on Karen again. Apparently she was pretty upset when they left and he was worried about her."

The detective stared for a moment before speaking. "And you didn't go with him because it would have been 'weird', right?" she asked. Tawny nodded.

"Yeah. Sammy –," she said, and blushed. She never called him Sammy in front of people. "Sam and I decided to just go back to the motel," she finished.

"Why didn't Sam go with Dean?" she asked, sitting back down. Tawny shrugged.

"I guess he was tired. It had been a rough day," she said, looking down at her hands. "Honestly, I think he couldn't take the grieving widow routine, not after his girlfriend," she said quietly, not altogether lying. She really did think that Sam was more affected by those cases where someone lost a significant other than any other cases, and she knew it brought back memories of Jessica's death. He tended to toss and turn more than usual on those nights.

"Wait," Tawny said suddenly, breaking from her thoughts to look up at Detective Ballard. "How'd you know what motel we were in?" she asked, puzzled. The detective pulled an evidence bag out of the folder and slid it across the table. "We found the motel matchbook on your boyfriend when we arrested him," she said, and her voice had an edge to it.

"Look, Tawny. I know you're lying. Sam was with Dean the whole time you all were in Baltimore. Why separate now?"

"Because we—" Tawny started, but the detective cut her off. "Because your boyfriend left you to go murder Karen Giles!" she yelled, standing back up. Tawny stood, too, leaning over the table and swinging her arm out furiously. "Dean didn't murder anyone!" she yelled back, her voice cracking with a wave of tears. How anyone could believe Dean would murder an innocent woman was beyond her comprehension. He was _Dean_. He was the one who, at 14, let her climb into bed with him at two in the morning because she was 10 and was having nightmares. He was the one who reassured her when John and Bobby were off on a hunt. He was the one who called his father, his superhero, a stupid bastard when he accused Tawny of being the one who drove Sam away. How could he commit murder?

Tawny glared at the detective as she walked around the table, angrily wiping the tears that were falling freely now. "Tawny, I heard the 911 call!" she yelled, grabbing Tawny's shoulders gently. "Karen was terrified! She said someone was in the house!"

Tawny wrenched herself out of Detective Ballard's grasp. "No! It wasn't Dean!" she yelled, walking back over to the filing cabinets. She looked out the window, fuming.

"Then why was he there, Tawny? Why was he kneeling over her body with blood on his hands!?" she demanded, and Tawny turned back.

"Look, you don't understand," she pleaded, sniffling. "You could _never_ understand what we go through on a day-to-day basis!" she yelled, suddenly regretting her words. She clenched her eyes shut, wanting to kick herself. She knew Dean would be furious with her. Before the Detective could respond, however, the door opened and Tawny opened her eyes.

"Uh, sorry for interrupting, but I need to speak with Miss Singer," a middle aged man said. Tawny looked at him, her eyes sweeping over his cheap department-store suit and tattered briefcase. Tawny wiped her eyes, glaring at the two of them. "I'll come back later," Detective Ballard said quietly, reassembling Tawny's file and walking out.

"I'm Jeff Crouse, with the public defenders' office," the man in the suit said, setting his briefcase down on the table before waving Tawny into a seat. She watched him closely as he sat, pulling something out of his pocket and handing it to Tawny. It was a piece of paper. She looked at it, then back up at him.

"It's from Mr. Winchester," he said, then shook his head. "Dean. It's from him, he says it's important." Tawny was about to read it when the door opened again and Detective Ballard poked her head in.

"Detective, I've barely had time to consult with my client," Crouse said, annoyed. Tawny awkwardly balled the note up in her hand, pushing it into her lap. The detective looked at her suspiciously before turning back to Crouse.

"We need you with Dean. He's decided to confess," she said, looking at Tawny in a way that made her stomach churn. It was satisfaction mixed with – pity. She hated pity, especially from someone who was trying to hurt Dean. Crouse stood, holding out his hand to Tawny. She shook it, smiling. She hoped it looked as sarcastic as she intended. "Nice to meet you. I'll be back in a little while," he said, squeezing her hand.

"You too, Matlock," she replied. He shook his head, grinning. "Well, you must really spend a lot of time with the Winchesters…" he said, but walked out before she could answer. She turned to the note, flattening it in her lap.

 _Anna-_

 _Hilts will meet you on_ _Ashland Street_ _._

 _-John_

Then, as if on cue, there was a tapping sound on the window. Tawny turned, her eyes widening when she saw Sam balanced on the outside ledge. She jumped out of her seat, running to the window. She raised the blinds, wrenching the window open and sticking her head out.

"Sam!"

He grinned at her, holding his hand out. "C'mon," he urged, and she took his good hand, pulling herself up onto the ledge. She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. "Uh, Sam?" she said, letting out a small squeak of fear when a strong gust of wind blew past them. He looked at her, gently pulling at her hand. "Sam, I probably should have told you this earlier, but, uh, I'm not particularly fond of heights," she said, turning her head to shoot him a tight-lipped grin. He sighed.

"Uh, okay. The quicker we move, the quicker we're on the ground, right?" he said, urging her gently. She looked back up at him and nodded tensely. They edged their way around the building, Tawny's legs stiff with the effort it was taking for her to not freak out. They finally made it to the fire escape with no one noticing, and ran down to the ground, completely forgetting that the note from Dean was sitting on the table.

* * *

"These showed up after you saw it?"

Tawny looked at Detective Ballard. She'd knocked on the door five minutes ago, and she knew Dean had told the detective how to find them.

"Yeah," she answered. "I guess."

Tawny looked at Sam, who was peering over her shoulder at the detective's wrists. "Alright," he said suddenly, and Tawny let go of Detective Ballard's wrists. "You're gonna have to tell us exactly what you saw."

Detective Ballard looked between them warily. "You, know. I must be losing my mind," she said, turning away from them. Tawny and Sam looked at each other as they leaned against the dresser. "You're fugitives," she continued. "I should be arresting you both."

Tawny let out an exasperated sigh. "Alright, well, you know what?" she said, her voice growing louder as the words tumbled out. "You can arrest us later, alright, after you live through this. But right now you've gotta talk to us, okay?"

Detective Ballard nodded and Tawny smiled briefly. "Okay, good. Now, what did the spirit look like?" Tawny asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She was, um, really pale…" she started, raising her hands "and her throat was cut. And her eyes, they were, like, this deep, dark red. It appeared like she was trying to talk to me, but she couldn't. It was just… a lot of blood." She sat at the end of the bed closest to her and Tawny bit her lip, thinking. Spirits who wanted to kill you didn't generally waste time talking, but considering how her day was going, she wouldn't be surprised if this was an odd case.

"You know what, here," Sam said suddenly, looking at the small table in the corner. He walked over to it, Tawny and Detective Ballard following. "We've been researching every girl who has ever died or gone missing from Ashland Street." He sat, grabbing a stack of photos Tawny had managed to heist from Baltimore PD's confidential files. Detective Ballard looked at them, then at Sam.

"How'd you get those? Those are from crime scenes and booking photos," she said accusingly. Tawny and Sam both grinned, and he shrugged. "You have your job, we have ours," he said, holding out the stack for her. "Here. I need you to look through these. Tell us if you recognize anyone."

She took them and sat on the closest bed, looking at each picture carefully. When she got to the third one she paused and looked up at Sam before holding out the photo. "This is her. I'm sure of it."

Sam took the photo, flipping it over to read the case details Tawny had written on the back. "Claire Becker. Twenty-eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago," he recited. Detective Ballard looked between them.

"But I don't even know her," she argued "I mean, why would she come after _me_?"

Tawny stood, taking the photo from Sam and looking at her own handwriting. "Well," she said, reading. "Before her death, she was arrested twice for dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?" She looked at the detective, who nodded.

"Yeah, Pete and I did before homicide," she answered, and Tawny held up the picture again. "You ever bust her?" she asked, but Detective Ballard shook her head.

"Not that I remember," she answered, and Tawny sighed, looking to Sam for help. He scanned the police report from her disappearance. "Says she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything." He handed the report to Detective Ballard. "Guess we gotta check it out ourselves, see if we can find her body."

"What?" Detective Ballard said, looking to Tawny for an explanation. "Well," she started, grabbing her jacket and pulling it on. "We gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest."

Detective Ballard shook her head, her eyes wide. "Of course it is."

* * *

Tawny was surprised Pete hadn't asked where she was yet. Sam and Detective Ballard had him completely distracted, and the gun pointed at Dean made her nervous, but she was a quick shot and knew she could take him down before he could squeeze off a round. She was hiding in the trees, waiting for the right moment.

She watched as Pete's story unraveled, how he killed Claire so she wouldn't turn him in as a drug dealer, how he killed Tony and Karen for the same reason, and how he was going to pin the whole thing on Dean. She watched in anger as he called Dean a scumbag and it took all of her willpower not to shoot him right then and there. But she couldn't; they needed the whole story, his entire confession.

She watched as Detective Ballard lowered her gun when Pete told her he loved her, and for a moment she panicked, thinking that maybe Detective Ballard was on his side the whole time. The gunshot that rang out scared Tawny, and she thought maybe it was his, the bullet killing Dean. But it was Pete that fell, a bullet hole in his leg. Tawny didn't move. She knew this wasn't the time yet. She couldn't hear what Detective Ballard said, but the next moment she was on her back, and Pete had a gun once again, this time trained on Sam.

"Don't do it!" he yelled. "Don't do it."

Then a figure was by the van. A blonde woman in a white dress, blood staining her chest, and Tawny knew this was her only chance. She took aim and squeezed, the shot loud enough to muffle the thump of Pete's body hitting the ground. She slowly walked out of her hiding place, looking only at Dean, who had his hands up in defense. He lowered them, struggling to stand. Tawny ran to him, pouncing when she was close enough. The force knocked them both back to the ground.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, Dean Winchester," she muttered against the flesh of his neck. He chuckled and she looked up. "Okay, babe. I promise I won't ever let a crooked cop frame me for murder again," he said quietly, and she smacked him. She stood, pulling him up as Sam came over with the key to his shackles. Once they were off he pulled Tawny into his chest and she had to bite back a sob. After the coma, she thought nothing could be worse, but she was wrong. Knowing Dean was being punished for something he had no involvement in was definitely worse.

She buried her face in his chest, hiding her face until she was able to compose herself, and took a deep breath, expecting it to soothe her. But he smelled all wrong. The leather and gunpowder was still there, but there was also another scent, one of fear. She pulled back, stepping away from Dean to look at Detective Ballard, who was kneeling over Pete in the broken morning light. She stood, turning to join the three of them.

"You doing alright?" Sam asked gently. Detective Ballard shook her head. "Not really," she said matter-of-factly, then she looked at Tawny. "The death omen, Claire, what happens to her now?"

Tawny looked at her for a moment, confused. She wondered why this detective, who accused her boyfriend of murder and didn't trust her for a second, was suddenly turning to her for answers.

"It should be over. She should be at rest," Sam answered instead, glancing at Tawny. Dean's arm snaked around Tawny's waist. "So, uh, what now, officer?" he asked hesitantly. Tawny held her breath, waiting for Detective Ballard to re-arrest Dean. But she didn't.

"Pete did confess to me," she started, looking between them. "He screwed up all three of your cases royally. I'd say there's a good chance that we can get your cases dismissed."

Tawny smiled. "You could take care of that for us?" she asked quietly, and Detective Ballard smiled back. "I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges?" she said, shaking her head and looking at Dean. "That's another story. I – I can't help you."

Tawny's heart dropped. So, even though they uncovered a dirty cop, and proved Dean hadn't killed Karen Giles, they were still back at square one. It was the story of her life.

"Unless," Detective Ballard suddenly said, and Tawny looked back up at her. "I just happened to turn my back and you walked away. I could tell them that the suspects escaped."

"Wait, are you sure?" Sam asked, and Tawny turned around and glared. "Yeah, she's sure, Sam," Dean said, pulling Tawny in closer.

"No," continued Sam, back-paddling. "It's just… you could lose your job over something like that."

Tawny looked at her, expecting her to change her mind. But she didn't. "Look," she said. "I just want the three of you out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night." She turned away, but then looked at Tawny. "Listen. You need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for all of you right now. Get outta here, I gotta radio this in."

She started to walk away, but Tawny cried out. "Wait! You forgot this," she said, handing Detective Ballard's back up weapon over. "My prints should still be on it, so that should make the story stick." Detective Ballard stared at her. "Tawny, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, this makes you a murderer. Even worse, a cop killer. Can you live with that?" she asked quietly, and Tawny shrugged.

"It's what I do," she said simply. Detective Ballard nodded and Dean stepped forward. "Hey, uh... You wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?" he asked, and Tawny rolled her eyes. "It's at the impound yard on Robertson," she answered, then gasped. "Don't even think about it," she warned, pointing a finger at him. Tawny grinned.

"It's okay," Sam said, a smile in his voice. "It's alright. Don't worry. We'll… uh, we'll just improvise. We're pretty good at that."

Detective Ballard smiled. "Yeah, I've noticed."

* * *

Tawny woke up to fingers in her hair. She slowly opened her eyes and looked blearily at Dean, who was still asleep, the arm not under her thrown over his face. She glanced at the clock. 3:14 shone at her in bright red. They were somewhere in South Carolina, Tawny couldn't remember where at the moment, and it had been two days since they'd left Baltimore in the rearview mirror. Tawny sighed, resting her head on Dean's bare chest so she could hear his heartbeat.

She had never been that close to losing Dean. Sure, there was the coma a few months back, but when John said he would fix it she trusted him. This time there were no reassurances, no demon's to bribe, just a pile of dead bodies and misunderstood facts. And one dirty cop. A dirty cop who was lying in a morgue with a hole in his chest Tawny put there. She'd killed a lot of monsters, more than she could count, but never a human. This bothered her, even if he was a cold-blooded killer who wanted to put a needle in Dean's arm.

One thing Bobby always drilled into her is a person is a person is a person, no matter how bad they are. She didn't oppose the death penalty in any way. Murderers and rapists deserve justice. But she didn't like being judge, jury and executioner. Dean didn't ask her about it, but Sam did a dozen times. Tawny never answered him, only looked out the windshield or changed the subject. Even though Dean said he got adjoining singles at the motel so he and Tawny could have privacy, she knew it was so that she wouldn't have to answer any of Sam's questions.

Dean stirred, pulling in a deep breath, the fingers in Tawny's hair massaging her scalp gently. She tilted her head up to find Dean was awake, his eyes half-closed. He lifted his free arm to rub his stubbled chin as he yawned.

"What's wrong?" he asked sleepily, glancing at the clock. He looked back at her as she rolled onto her back, his arm still under her neck.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep," she whispered, avoiding looking into his face. He rolled, propping himself up on his arm to lean over her.

"I can't. You're thinkin' too loud," he replied, pressing his lips to her forehead. Tawny sighed.

"Dean, I already told Sam. I'm fine, so stop worrying and go to sleep," she urged. She gently pushed at his chest, but he didn't budge. "Dean," she groaned, drawing his name out in annoyance. He grinned at her, adjusting his body so his chest was completely over hers.

"Don't wanna talk," he murmured, kissing her nose gently. "Just want you." He kissed her lips, lightly brushing at first, but her hand slid around to the back of his neck and she pulled him in closer. His tongue brushed along the seam of her lips, begging entrance, which she quickly granted. She brushed the flat of her tongue against his before running it over his teeth, moaning into his mouth. His hand drifted down her side, squeezing at her hip to draw out another moan before descending to her thigh. He slid his hand under it, lifting her leg as he moved over her, hooking her knee at his bare hip.

He pulled away and Tawny gasped for air, one hand sliding over his shoulder to his muscled back, the other ghosting down his chest, pinching carelessly at a nipple before running lightly down to the light dusting of hair under his navel. She brushed at the short curls there as the fingers of her other hand tangled in Dean's hair to pull him down into another kiss. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and slid her hand down to the head, almost arching her back when she felt a large amount of hot pre-come dribble onto her hip. Dean moaned into her mouth, rolling his hips as Tawny continued to jerk him off. He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

"Wanna fuck you, baby," Dean muttered, gasping when her grip tightened around his base. She smiled, angling her hips to guide him into her leaking opening. Dean thrust into Tawny, and her eyes drifted shut as she tightened her grip on Dean's short hair. He picked up the pace of his thrusts until he was slamming into her at an alarming rate. Tawny cried out as the first waves of orgasm hit her, a whimpering sob escaping her throat and her hand flew to Dean's bicep, squeezing tightly.

"So good, baby," he whispered, kissing her deeply, tongue fucking her mouth in time with his rolling hips. She came again, trembling as his thrusts became less fluid and more erratic.

"Tawny, m'gonna…" he murmured against her mouth and she licked at his lips. "Come for me baby," she whispered back, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. He let out a light gasp and his stomach muscles tightened where they were rubbing against hers and he came with a cry of his own, twitching as he shot the searing liquid into her. She came one more time, her walls contracting weakly around him as he collapsed onto her, his face buried in her curls. One of Tawny's hands stayed in his hair, the other rubbing nonsensical patterns on his back.

Dean stayed in Tawny for what seemed like hours, breathing deeply, and Tawny was beginning to think he'd fallen asleep when he suddenly lifted his head, pulling his hips back to slide his softened cock out of her. Tawny hated the empty feeling it left behind, but she smiled when Dean pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly with both arms.

"Dean?" she murmured against the soft skin in the middle of his chest. He hummed, and she knew he was barely awake. She swallowed back a lump in her throat. "Don't ever leave me alone, okay?" she whispered, unable to help the tears that stung her eyes. Dean squeezed her.

"'kay."


	6. Hells Bells

**_Disclaimer:_** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x8: "Crossroad Blues" belong to writer Sera Gamble. The lyrics to "Hells Bells" belong to Angus Young, Malcolm Young, and Brian Johnson._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tawny belongs to me._

 ** _Hells bells, Satan's coming to you  
Hells bells, he's ringing them now  
Those hells bells, the temperature's high  
Hells bells, across the sky  
Hells bells, they're taking you down  
Hells bells, they're dragging you down  
Hells bells, gonna split the night  
Hells bells, there's no way to fight_**

They woke up early the next morning at Sam's request, heading into Tennessee. It'd been four long, stressful days since they left Baltimore, and Sam didn't seem to want to stop moving. They'd driven to Alabama yesterday, and it took him two hours and seven stops to find a motel just outside Auburn he felt comfortable with, and he booked just one double so he could keep an eye on Dean. Then, at about three in the morning, he'd woken them up, insisting that they get back on the road. Tawny had to drag Sam into the bathroom to keep Dean from hitting him, and she promised that they'd be on the road by 7:00. Sam didn't let them stop until they'd been driving for close to eight hours.

"Sam, for the love of – can we _please_ stop? I'm frickin' starving," Dean whined. He'd relinquished the driver's seat a hundred miles back after he started to nod off. He'd slept for about an hour, climbing into the back seat with Tawny to stretch out, his head on her lap. Now he was wide awake and talkative. Like usual.

Sam glanced at him through the rearview mirror, shaking his head. "No, I think we should go another hundred or so miles," he said stiffly, glancing in the side mirror like he was expecting the entire FBI to come speeding up at any moment. Tawny was sick of it.

"Sam," she said, leaning up. "Lonoke is in 20 miles. Either you stop there or I'm going to tie you up and duct tape you to the roof."

"Yeah? How're you gonna do that without killing us all?" he asked, nodding towards the steering wheel. Tawny glanced at Dean. He was looking out the window pathetically, his hand on his stomach. Truth be told, she could go for a burger, too.

"Alright," she said, leaning over to grab Dean's shirt. She pulled him to her, kissing him. He stiffened for a moment, but quickly understood what Tawny was doing. Dean returned the kiss open-mouthed, swirling his tongue around hers pornographically, moaning loudly. He pulled her into his lap, his hand pulling her hair out of the messy bun it was in so he could angle her head to deepen the kiss. Tawny grinned against Dean's mouth when she heard Sam shift uncomfortably.

"Stop it," he said weakly, and she didn't have to look at him to know he was gripping the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Tawny slid her hand over Dean's shoulder, grasping the back of his shirt to pull it over his head. It had barely hit the seat next to Sam when the car jerked over to the shoulder and Sam hit the brakes. "Okay!" he yelled, defeated, unhooking his seatbelt. "I give! You can drive!" He opened the door, jumping out to circle the car. Tawny pulled away, grinning at Dean. "Team Tawny, one, team Sam, zip," she said, climbing over the front seat. Dean smacked her rear, reaching for his shirt as Sam wrenched open the back door. "What about team Dean?" he asked, leaning to get out. "My idea, my point," she said matter-of-factly, curling up in the imprint shaped like Sam.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled off of the I-40 and Dean stopped at the first diner he saw. They got a table towards the back, ordering burgers. They ate in relative silence, Sam finishing first and pulling out his laptop as Dean ordered another plate of fries.

"So much for our low profile," Sam said suddenly, and Dean and Tawny looked up. "You got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the feds' database."

"Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something," Dean said, grinning and raising his cup to his lips. Sam looked up at Tawny. "Yeah, and that makes Tawny the Woman in the Red Dress. Baltimore's looking for you and the feds want you for harboring a fugitive," he said. Tawny's jaw dropped.

"What?!" she asked, grabbing the computer and pulling it towards her. Sure enough, there was a copy of a federal profile next to Dean's, her senior yearbook picture on top. She scanned both profiles. "Well, they got Dean's eye color wrong. They have them as brown, not green," she pointed out, turning the laptop back to Sam. "At least we have that in our favor."

"You're dad's gonna be so proud, short stack," Dean said, grinning down at Tawny as he moved to take a drink. "We're both famous." She hit his chest lightly.

"Don't _call_ me that."

"Dean, it's not funny," Sam insisted, rolling his eyes. Dean lowered the cup. "It makes the job a lot harder. We gotta be more careful now."

Tawny looked at him. "Well, what do they got on _you_?" she asked, irritated. She and Dean weren't the only ones who'd broken the law, dammit. Sam had climbed out of a Goddamn window at a police station. But Sam looked back down at the computer, obviously disappointed. "I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet," he muttered. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"What, no accessory, nothing?" he asked. Sam rolled his eyes and muttered "Shut up" prompting Dean and Tawny took look at each other and immediately start laughing. "You're jealous," Dean chuckled as Tawny leaned into his side, laughing quietly. "No, I'm _not_!" Sam defended, but Tawny raised a hand and pointed at him, still laughing. "Yes, you _are_! Wittle Sammy's jeawous," she chided. He glared, but she continued to giggle silently. Dean picked up a fry, popping it into his mouth before looking at Sam.

"Alright, what do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?" he asked, finally taking a sip of his drink. Tawny leaned over and grabbed a fry, skipping the ketchup Dean was practically drinking. "That's like dry sex, you know," he said quietly, watching as she started to put it in her mouth. She pulled it out, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"That's what my tongue is for, genius," Tawny said, licking the shell of his ear quickly before leaning away. Tawny nonchalantly chewed and swallowed, avoiding his eyes.

"Are you two done? It's gross," Sam said, looking between them, obviously disgusted. Tawny nodded. "Yes, sir. Go ahead," she said, folding her hands on the table and looking at him intently. He rolled his eyes and huffed lightly before pulling out a piece of paper.

" 'Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home – a condominium he designed,'" he read, looking up at them. Dean hummed. "Build a high rise and jump off the top of it – that's classy. When did he call animal control?" Dean asked. Tawny had been reading bits and pieces of the case to him before he fell asleep in the car, so she answered.

"Two days earlier, right?" She looked at Sam, who nodded. Dean looked between them. "Did he actually say 'black dog'?" he asked, and Sam answered with a quick "Yeah" before reading the report. " 'Vicious, wild, black dog.' The authorities couldn't find it and no one else saw it. In fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up, and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town," he finished, looking between them. Tawny shrugged.

"Maybe he very politely asked for help pushing the button," she suggested, looking at Sam innocently. Dean snorted into his Coke. Sam ignored her, looking back at the report.

"After that," he continued, as if Tawny wasn't there "no more calls. He doesn't show up for work. Two days later, he takes a swan dive."

Dean looked at him. "You think we're dealing with an actual black dog?" he asked doubtfully. Sam shrugged.

"Well, maybe."

"What's the lore on it?" Tawny asked, looking at him curiously.

"It's all pretty vague," he responded, handing them a stack of papers. Tawny took one with a picture of the Hound of the Baskervilles on it. She held it up. "Really, Dr. Watson?" she asked. Again, Sam ignored her and continued.

"There are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty…"

"Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg. Look at that one, huh?" Dean said, holding up a Native American drawing of an enormous, skeletal dog. Tawny smiled. Sam stared at Dean petulantly and Dean frowned. "What? They could." He looked at Tawny for help and she patted his arm sympathetically.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I think C-3PO's finally blown a circuit, but _I_ think you're adorable, if that counts for anything."

* * *

"Holy crap, you should wear heels more often."

Tawny rolled her eyes and turned off the bathroom light before crossing the motel room. It was crappy, as usual, and she felt odd wearing the gauzy button up and pencil skirt she'd packed. The heels made it worse. They were foreign on her feet, and she took a little while to get used to walking in them.

"Okay, I'm heading to the morgue," she said, grabbing her jacket and slipping it on. Dean walked over to her, holding out a police badge.

"Don't forget, you're state police, not local," he reminded as she reached up and adjusted his tie. She scoffed. "I know, Dean. I _have_ done this before," she retorted, kissing him lightly as she took it. She was at the door when Dean called out to her.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning to look at him, expecting yet another piece of common-sense advice.

"Be careful, okay?" he said, concern clouding his bright green eyes. She walked over to him, kissing him deeply. She knew he was still shaken up about the whole close-to-being-executed thing, despite telling Sam constantly that he wasn't. "I love you," she murmured against his mouth. He grinned. "Love you, too," he whispered back. She pulled away and walked out, making her way to the Impala where Sam was waiting. They drove to the morgue in silence, Sam only speaking when he pulled up in front of it.

"Remember you're state, not local," he said, and Tawny sighed. "Do you and Dean wanna interview all these people and see the body and do research by yourselves? 'Cause I can go home, you know. I have a cat that misses me," she said quickly, glaring over at Sam. He held his hands up in defense.

"Jeez, Tawny. You don't have to bite my head off," he said. She threw open the door and climbed out, slamming it behind her. She'd gotten half way up the stairs when she realized she hadn't heard Sam drive off, so she turned to see him watching her apprehensively. She rolled her eyes, waving him off impatiently. Sam sighed heavily, but obeyed, and she waited until the car rounded the corner before climbing the rest of the stairs.

"Hi," she said when she got to the front desk, flashing her badge to the young assistant behind the counter. "I'm Detective Hamill with the State Police. We're looking into the death of Sean Boyden. I'd like to see the ME's report and the body, if you don't mind."

They girl flashed her a too-wide smile before answering. "Of course, Detective. Dr. Kroger is in if you'd like to speak to him in person," she offered, placing her hand on the phone. Tawny returned a fake smile, nodding slightly.

"That would be great, thanks," she said, glancing around the room as the young woman dialed. She spoke quietly for a moment before hanging up. "Dr. Kroger said for you to go on up. Just take the elevator down to the basement and he'll be waiting," she instructed, pointing to an elevator tucked away in a corner. Tawny thanked her again and quickly made her way down to the basement. The smell of formaldehyde hit her before the door even opened and she immediately thought of ninth grade when she'd had to dissect a frog. Its stomach had burst, spraying Liza Whitmore with the most foul-smelling liquid Tawny had ever come into contact with. And that was including a run in with a very angry Death Worm in Arizona three years ago.

She managed to compose herself with a very fake smile as the doors slid open, revealing Dr. Kroger. He was probably in his mid-40s, tall, with bright blue eyes and thinning blonde hair. He smiled at her, offering his hand as she stepped out of the elevator.

"Good morning, Detective," he said, squeezing her hand. "I understand you're here to see Mr. Boyden's body?" He tilted his head inquisitorially. Tawny nodded.

"Yes," she said, glancing around the room. She saw a large, older man lying on a table, the tell-tale y-incision already sewn up. Dr. Kroger saw her looking and chuckled sadly.

"One too many cheeseburgers, I'm afraid," he said, walking over to the cooler. He pulled open a door and slid a body out, flipping back the white sheet when Tawny was standing over it. She grimaced. If he looked this bad cleaned up, she couldn't imagine what he looked like right after he hit the ground. She suddenly felt terribly for his wife and children.

"Mr. Boyden, on the other hand, died from trauma sustained after a fall from approximately 75 feet," he said, and Tawny believed it. The left side of his skull was caved in, flattened by the sidewalk. She could see small pockmarks where pieces of gravel tore the flesh of his head and face. There was a purplish-grey bruise covering his entire face, extending down to finally blend in around his collar bones. She noticed a very prominent lump on his neck and knew that it was broken.

"So, the fall is definitely what killed him?" she asked, looking up at Dr. Kroger. He nodded.

"I'm positive it is. The amount of blood that pooled in the skull after impact means his heart was still beating for at least thirty seconds once he hit the ground," he replied quietly, and Tawny looked up with wide eyes.

"You mean he was alive when he – He felt all of this?" she asked. Dr. Kroger nodded.

"I'm afraid so."

Tawny looked back down at him, wondering what would drive someone to chuck themselves off of a building. Tawny knew she would never do it, if only because of her fear of heights. There were so many other ways. Tawny thought if she ever got to that point she'd probably take pills, just drift off into peaceful sleep.

"So," she asked, clearing her throat "what were the injuries exactly?"

Dr. Kroger picked up a piece of paper that was lying on his torso Tawny hadn't noticed and handed it to her.

"Broken ribs and hip, a shattered femur and eye socket, dislocated shoulder. The impact crushed the left side of his skull, shredding that hemisphere of the brain, and he also sustained a broken neck. Both would be fatal on their own, but in combination..."

Tawny nodded, scanning the report in her hand. She paused halfway down, running her finger along a line in a list of injuries.

"It says here that there are three lacerations you can't account for in the fall. Can I see those?" Tawny asked, looking up at Dr. Kroger. He pulled the table out all the way, flipping up the sheet to expose Boyden's right leg. In the purpled flesh of his calf were three deep cuts, each about a foot and a half long and at least three quarters of an inch wide. Tawny looked back up at Dr. Kroger.

"You have no idea where these came from?" she asked. Dr. Kroger shook his head. "If you find out, let me know. I'm rather curious about them," he said. Tawny opened her mouth to reply, but her phone started ringing. She flipped it open, smiling apologetically at the doctor before turning away.

"Hamill," she said crisply, almost rolling her eyes when she heard Dean's voice.

"Listen to you, sounding all official," he joked, and Tawny sighed. "We're coming to get you, so hurry up with the doc," he said, and Tawny pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Okay, I'm pretty much done here. I'll be outside," she said, flipping the phone shut. She turned back to see Dr. Kroger had put Boyden's body back and was waiting for her patiently.

"Well, I think I've got everything I need. Thank you, Dr. Kroger," she said, holding her hand out to shake his again. He smiled at her. "Any time," he replied, ushering her to the elevator. The ride back up to the lobby seemed to take forever and she embraced the chilly air outside, gulping in large lungful's of it as she watched the road for the Impala. Dean pulled up about a minute later and Sam got out, holding the door open for Tawny. She slid all the way in, settling against Dean's side as Sam climbed back into his seat.

"Find anything good?" Dean asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Tawny held up the report for Dean to see, but Sam snatched it out of her hand.

"The ME said he definitely died from taking his dive, and the injuries were consistent with that. Except for one," she said, looking between them. "He had three long, nasty looking scratches on one of his legs."

Sam shrugged. "He could've gotten those from anything, Tawny. Maybe he brushed up against the building on his way down or something," he suggested, but Tawny shook her head.

"You didn't see these things, Sam. They were huge, like, a foot and a half long each. And they were deep, almost like knife cuts," she insisted, but Sam looked at her uncertainly, and Tawny grabbed the report angrily.

" _Plus_ ," she continued, annoyed. "Dr. Kroger said he couldn't account for them. He even asked me if _I_ would call and tell _him_ what they were from, if I found out."

Sam looked over at her as if he was going to say something, but he just shook his head and turned away. Tawny looked at him curiously.

"What'd you guys find out from the partner?" she asked. Sam sighed.

"Boyden was an overnight success. And he worked at a place called Lloyd's. We're gonna head over there after we check out these Animal Control calls," he said, showing Tawny a list of names and addresses. "How many?" she asked, looking at it closely.

"Nineteen," Dean chimed in, and Tawny groaned.

* * *

"I swear, if this is just another freakin' Pomeranian barkin' in the neighbor's yard…"

Tawny looked over at Dean and smiled sarcastically. "This was your idea. I said 'Call them, it'll be easier' and you said 'No, we have to see them all'. They aren't Pokémon, Dean," she said, glaring. Sam chuckled softly.

The door opened and a short woman stood, staring at them.

"Afternoon, ma'am," Dean said, looking at Sam awkwardly. "Uh, Animal Control."He took out an ID and showed it to her, and she looked at them oddly.

"Oh, someone already came yesterday," she said, and Sam spoke up. "Uh, we're just following up. We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Perlman. The woman smiled softly and let them in, leading them to a large kitchen.

"The doctor, well, she – I don't know exactly when she'll be back. She left two days ago."

"Okay," Sam said, and Tawny leaned against the counter. Next time, she was wearing flats. "And you are?" she asked, nearly sighing in relief when she was able to take the weight off of one foot. The woman looked at her.

"I'm Miss Perlman's maid," she said. Tawny nodded. "And where did she go?"

"I'm not sure. She just packed and went. She didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?" she asked, and Sam stepped up beside Tawny.

"Uh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?" he asked curiously, and the maid shook her head.

"Well, no. I never ever heard it. I was almost starting to think the doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so…"

Dean spoke up from by the fridge, where he was holding a photo. "You know, I read she was, uh, the Chief Surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be, what, 42, 43? That's pretty young for that job."

"Youngest in the history of the place," said the maid, smiling "She got the position ten years ago."

Sam and Tawny looked at each other, then back at her. "Huh," he said "an overnight success, ten years ago."

Dean looked over. "Yeah, we know a guy like that," he said, then walked over. "Oh, look at this. Lloyd's bar." Tawny looked at the picture, then handed back to Dean.

"Thanks for your time," she said, and the maid quickly showed them out.

"So, what d'you think?" Dean asked as Tawny opened the door. She paused and looked at him.

"I think I need a drink."

* * *

Tawny's first thought was that Lloyd's was a dump, even compared to the places she usually could be found having a beer. Her second thought was that she was never trading in her boots for pumps ever again.

"Hey," Dean suddenly said, and Sam and Tawny turned. "Yeah?"

"That's weird," he said, gesturing vaguely. Tawny and Sam looked at each other.

"What?"

"Think someone planted these?" Dean asked, walking over to look at a flower on the side of the road.

"In the middle of all these weeds?" Sam asked doubtfully. Dean moved some around with his foot. "These are, uh, what d'you call 'em?" He looked at Tawny.

"Yarrow flowers. They're used for summoning rituals…" she answered, her voice drifting with realization. Dean chuckled.

"So," Dean said, as Tawny looked around. There was something here, but she couldn't put her finger on it. They were so close. "Two people become sudden successes about ten years ago, right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's."

"Where there just happens to be a crossroads," Tawny suddenly said, turning to look at them. Sam looked at her cautiously. "You think?" he asked, and Tawny shrugged.

"Let's find out," Dean said, heading over to where Tawny was standing. "This seem about dead center to you?" he asked, and she nodded. He walked over to the car, grabbing a shovel out of the trunk to start digging.

He got down about a foot before hitting something, and he looked up at Sam.

"Yahtzee."

The three of them crouched, Dean pulling an old, rusty, metal tin out of the hole. He opened it, then handed it to Tawny. "Alright, you're our resident expert on summoning spells," he said, smiling at her. She took it, popping it open and looking at the contents.

"Well, this is probably a black cat bone, and I'd bet the farm that this," she held up a vial of dirt "is graveyard dirt. This is some serious spell work. Like, deep South hoodoo stuff I wouldn't touch for the Crown Jewels."

She looked between them, closing the tin. "So, they summoned a demon," Sam said. Dean stood.

"Not just summoned one. Crossroads are where pacts are made," he said "These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good."

"Well, they're seeing dogs, alright," Tawny said, looking at the tin in Dean's hands warily. He looked at her. "They aren't just mean, black dogs though. They're Hellhounds. Demonic pitbulls. So, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor, she's next, and wherever she's running, it sure as hell ain't fast enough."

They slowly walked over to the car, leaning against it. A few minutes had passed before Sam spoke up. "So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, 'selling your soul at the crossroads' kinda deal?"

"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend," Dean said, his hand drifting over to rest on Tawny's hip. "You know his music."

Sam looked down, his I-can't-believe-Dean-knows-something-I-don't face obvious. "You don't know Robert Johnson's songs?" Tawny asked in disbelief, and Sam shrugged. "Sam, there's occult references all over his lyrics. 'Crossroad Blues', 'Me and the Devil Blues', 'Hellhound on My Trail'? Nothin'?" she asked, and Sam shook his head. She sighed, looking at Dean for help.

"Story goes that he died choking on his own blood," Dean said, taking over. "He was hallucinating and muttering about big, evil dogs."

"And now it's happening all over again," Sam said, and Tawny grinned. "You're finally getting it, Gigantor."

"We gotta find out if anyone else struck any bargains around here," he said, and Tawny nodded, but Dean looked between them with wide eyes.

"Right, so, we gotta clean up these people's mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky-clean," he said, and Tawny looked up at him in disbelief. "Nobody put a gun to their head and forced them to play 'Let's Make a Deal'."

"So, what," Tawny said, pulling away from him. "We should just let them die?"

"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save them?" he asked, and Tawny scoffed.

"This isn't the same thing and you know it," she glared, and Dean looked down at his feet.

"Alright, fine," he finally said. "Rituals like this you gotta put your own photo into the mix, right?"

Tawny nodded. "So, this guy," he held up a picture from the tin "probably summoned the thing. Let's see if anyone inside knows him… if he's still alive."

* * *

Tawny worried about Dean more than she should. Sometimes she was pretty sure she worried more than Sam. There were things Sam didn't know about her and Dean, things she hope she would never have to tell him. Little things, like the way Dean wouldn't leave the Singers' without giving Tawny a kiss on the forehead. Or the way he would subconsciously draw protective symbols on her back when he thought she was asleep. Or the way he would look at her before they separated, like it took every fiber of his being to let her go off by herself.

He was the only thing that kept her together after Sam left. Up until then Sam had been her best friend. They did everything together. Hell, they would spend entire summers almost literally attached at the hip. Yeah, Dean was around for some of it, but Tawny and Sam were as close as two people could be. They ate together, worked out together, read together, even slept in the same bed. John used to joke that they were lucky to have found their soul mates early, and sometimes Tawny wondered if it was true, even though she didn't believe in soul mates. But she never felt that way about Sam. They tried it once, after they'd taken each other's virginity. It was Sam's idea, and she knew he only tried so hard at it because he thought it was proper in some way.

After he left, Tawny was a mess. John didn't speak to her for months; the only way she knew he was still alive was because Dean would stop by every once in a while. After she turned eighteen, something about Dean had changed. The way he looked at her, or the way he spoke, Tawny wasn't sure. But she _was_ sure of the cause. She had become a woman, it was undeniable. She wasn't that little freckle-faced kid with dirt on her cheeks and pigtails that wouldn't stay even. The freckles had lightened and she was wearing make-up and she'd finally gotten the hang of blow-drying her hair so it fell in a smooth, dark curtain down her back.

When John finally forgave her, it was like she got a little piece of herself back. They visited more often, went on hunts together. She cooked for them when they were at Bobby's, John making sure he always thanked her. Tawny knew he felt guilty about blaming her for Sam going to Stanford, but she made sure he knew there was nothing to feel guilty about. At night Tawny would sneak out and go into the woods to miss Sam. For the first few weeks she thought she was alone. Then one night she twisted her ankle on a root and Dean came jogging out from the shadows and carried her back to the house. He wrapped her ankle and iced it. He sat in her bed, holding the bag of ice to her swollen ankle with one hand, the other resting lightly on her calf. They fell asleep, and when Tawny woke up Bobby was standing in the doorway, his face red with anger.

He'd grabbed Dean, pulling him out of the bed roughly, and tossed him unceremoniously into the hall. Tawny stood, following them as Bobby practically chased Dean out of the house, not even noticing the pain in her ankle. John tried to diffuse the situation, saying that Sam and Tawny used to share a bed all the time, Dean wasn't trying anything. That's when Bobby reached for his shotgun and John pulled Dean out of the house. Tawny watched them go, tears streaming down her face. She collapsed both from the pain in her ankle and the pain of losing the rest of the Winchesters for what she assumed was forever.

Tawny was angry with Bobby for a day before she realized exactly why he was so mad at Dean. It wasn't because he thought anything had happened between Tawny, it's because he thought Dean was going to take her away. So she forgave him, and they lived in silent understanding for two years until Dean showed up. He was her knight in a leather jacket. Then they fell back into the same routine. Only right now it was Tawny's turn to save Dean. To carry him back to safety and bind his wounds and only being able to fall asleep knowing he was safe.

So when Dean said he was going to the Crossroads to summon the demon, Tawny knew things were about to spin out of control. They were able to save Evan Hudson, but at what cost? When Dean got back he was quiet, too quiet. They bid Evan goodbye, told him he didn't need to thank them, they were only doing their jobs, and climbed into the Impala. Dean didn't turn on the radio, and he didn't even pretend to what she and Sam were saying to him.

"Demons lie all the time, right?" Sam asked suddenly, looking out the windshield. Tawny felt Dean tense up beside her suddenly. She put a hand on his knee and squeezed. "Maybe she was lying." Dean scoffed.

"Come on. Is that really what you think?" He glanced over at Sam, loosening up a bit as Tawny started to rub soft circles just above his knee. "How could he do it?" Dean murmured, and Tawny's throat tightened at the hurt in his voice.

"He did it for you," Sam whispered. Dean grinned painfully.

"Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that? You know, the thought of him, wherever he is right now… I mean, he spent his whole life chasing that yellow-eyed son of a bitch. He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy, you know? Not bargaining with the damn thing. Not this," he said tensely. Tawny looked up at him.

"He did go out fighting," she said softly, and her hand stilled on his leg. "He was fighting for you, Dean. He was fighting to keep you alive. And, no, he didn't think about how you would feel. He only thought about his son, lying broken and dying in a hospital room where no one, not even the _doctor_ knew your real name."

She looked down at the hand on his knee, the tears she was trying to keep at bay threatening to spill.

"How many people do you think dad saved total?" Sam asked, his arm drifting over Tawny's shoulders, probably to protect her from herself. She kept her hand on Dean's leg, needing the feel of the worn denim under her fingers, to feel his body heat radiating through them.

"That's not the point, Sam," Dean said, his jaw tight. But Sam continued.

"Evan Hudson is safe because of what dad taught us. That's his legacy, Dean. Now, we're still here, man, so we gotta keep going. For him."

Dean was quiet, and through the haze of her own tears, she could see his own resting precariously close to falling distance.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, and Tawny suddenly wished they were anywhere but here, in this car, with John all around them. This was one topic she _never_ touched, and tonight they were practically raping it. Dean grunted out a short "Yeah".

"When you were trapping that demon, you weren't… I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that deal, right?"

Dean's silence spoke volumes. He shifted his gaze away from both of them for a moment before leaning over to change the radio station, and that's when Tawny knew that all it would take is a single catalyst, and she could lose Dean forever.


	7. Alone

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x9: "Croatoan" belong to writer John Shiban. The lyrics to "Alone" belong to Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly._

 _Tawny belongs to me._

 _ **I hear the tickin' of the clock  
I'm lying here, the room's pitch dark  
I wonder where you are tonight  
No answer on the telephone  
And the night goes by so very slow  
Oh I hope that it won't end though  
Alone  
Till now I always got by on my own  
I never really cared until I met you  
And now it chills me to the bone  
How do I get you alone?**_

Tawny had always considered herself a loner. She didn't have many friends when she was in school, none worth keeping in touch with after graduation, anyways. No, she preferred to stay by herself. Sam and Dean were really the only people she really considered her friends until she started hunting on her own, and even then only a couple hunters she met made the cut.

Living alone with her father taught her how to fend for herself. Bobby wasn't a bad father. He never hit her or was demeaning in any way; he hardly ever even raised his voice to her. What he did, however, was let her make mistakes. By the age of ten she knew how to do the laundry, cook, and clean a shotgun. By twelve she could handle a knife. With her teenage years came lessons under the hood of a car, driving, and, most importantly, Tawny's first gun. It was a beauty, a Colt 1911, the same guns Dean inherited from John the day he got the Impala and Sam got on his fifteenth birthday. Tawny's had the same chrome barrel with intricate designs soldered into the barrel, but where Dean's had a white grip, Tawny's was a bright cherry wood. She loved that gun.

So, she'd grown up used to being alone. She used to relish the long, hot days when she and Sam could see each other. Those were the only weeks of the year that she thrived. As soon as September rolled around she would close herself off, making friends only because it was necessary in order to keep the grief counselors away. And she knew she _had_ to keep them away. They tried to make her go to therapy when she was in the seventh grade. Tommy Dorfin had told her that her mother was in hell because they were Protestant and only Catholics go to heaven, and she'd hit him. They called her father and requested a meeting. Tawny had no idea what he'd told the impetuous little woman that was principle at her school, but all she knew was that they didn't bother her again. But they were always watching.

* * *

"Dean _shot_ him?"

Tawny stared up at Sam, her eyes wide with disbelief. She knew he'd had visions before, and she knew they weren't exactly great visions, but this was crazy. Dean shooting someone for no apparent reason? No, it wouldn't happen.

"Yeah. He thought there was something inside the kid," Sam answered, looking at Tawny, then Dean. Oh. Well, that made sense, then.

"What, a demon? Was he possessed?" Dean asked, taking his eyes off the road for a minute. Sam shook his head.

"I dunno."

"Well, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the yellow-eyed demon somehow. So, was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise him?" Dean asked desperately. Tawny knew the thought of Dean shooting someone without any obvious reason or provocation bothered him. But Sam shook his head again.

"No. Nothing. You just plugged him. That's it," Sam answered, looking down at Tawny.

"Well, I'm sure I had a good reason," Dean said, more for his benefit than theirs. Sam shrugged warily.

"I sure hope so."

 _Great,_ Tawny thought, looking at Sam. She knew a fight was right on the heels of that comment, and it would start with Dean asking "What does _that_ mean?" almost nonchalantly. Tawny knew better, and Sam's long pause proved her point. If he wasn't so freaked out about this vision she probably would've hit him.

"I'm not gonna waste an innocent man," Dean defended suddenly, anger beginning to seep into his voice. He looked at Sam, who only raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't!"

"I never said you would," Sam said defensively. Dean opened his mouth, but Tawny held up her hands.

"Will you both shut up?" she demanded more than asked. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Tawny made a buzzing noise and brought the fingertips on her left hand together, something she did a lot when they were teenagers and Dean was getting on her nerves. Sam and Dean both started glaring, but at least they were quiet. Until, of course, Sam opened his mouth again.

"Look, we don't know what it is," he said, and Tawny looked at him, wondering if clapping a hand over his mouth would do any good. Probably not. "But, whatever it is, that guy in the chair is part of it. So, let's find him and see what's what."

"Fine," Dean snapped back, and Tawny rolled her eyes when Sam quickly muttered his own "Fine". They fought like this constantly when they were kids, and Tawny didn't miss it at all.

The rest of the drive was quiet, but far from peaceful. Both Sam and Dean were tense by her side, enough so that she wasn't able to get any sleep, even curled comfortably against Sam's side. So, she stayed awake, watching the sun rise slowly to her right. Dean grabbed her hand at some point, holding on to her tightly. They finally made it to Rivergrove around seven, Dean rolling to a top at the curb of a street in the middle of town. Sam glanced through the window, his gaze settling on a man sitting on his porch tinkering with a fishing rod.

"He was there." Sam pointed him out for Dean. He reached over, grabbing three badges from the box in the glove compartment, handing two to Sam and Tawny. They climbed out of the car and headed across the street to where the man was sitting.

"Morning," Dean said as he approached the porch. The man looked up and smiled politely.

"Morning," he returned. "Can I help you?"

The three of them pulled out their badges, flashing them towards the man.

"Yeah," said Dean "Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard, and Liana Carnegie, US Marshalls."

The man set down the fishing rod, a look of concern on his face.

"What's this about?" he asked, looking between the three of them.

"We're looking for someone," Dean started. Sam continued for him. "A young man, uh, early 20s. He'd have a thin scar right below his hairline." Tawny could tell the man knew exactly who they were talking about.

"What'd he do?"

"Well, nothing. We're actually looking for someone else," Tawny said, putting a hand on her hip "but we think this young man can help us."

"Yeah," Dean said, glancing at Tawny. "He's not in kind of any trouble or anything. Not yet."

The man nodded, somewhat relieved, but didn't speak. Tawny glanced down at a tattoo he had on his arm, and Dean clearly saw it, too, because he said "I think maybe you know who he is, Master Sergeant." The man nodded knowingly. "My dad was in the corps. He was a Corporal," Dean continued. Tawny felt a distinct tightening of her chest.

"What company?" the man asked, beginning to smile.

"Echo-2-1." There was no mistaking the pride in his voice, and Tawny tried hard not to smile.

"So, can you help us?" Sam asked. He paused for a moment, but answered.

"Duane Tanner's got a, uh, scar like that," he said, gesturing to his hairline "but I know him. Good kid. Keeps his nose clean."

Tawny smiled. "No, I'm sure he does. Do you know where he lives?" she asked. Something was starting to feel hinky about the whole situation.

"With his family, up Aspen Way." He pointed up the street, and Tawny nodded. "Thanks," she said softly, smiling at him. He returned the smile as she, Sam and Dean turned to walk away, and she could feel his eyes following them all the way across the street. She turned to look back at him, but something scratched into a light pole distracted her. She paused, running her fingertips over the letters. "Croatoan," she murmured, knitting her eyebrows, desperately trying to remember why she knew that word. She felt Sam pause next to her and he called out to Dean.

" 'Croatoan'?" Dean questioned, looking between them. Sam nodded.

"Yeah."

All at once, Tawny knew where she'd seen the word. It was in an old Native American journal her father had from Roanoke.

"Yeah, Roanoke. The lost colony," she said, turning to look at Dean. He stared at her. "Did you pay attention at _all_ in history?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"Yeah, shot heard round the world, how bills become laws…" he said, and Tawny stared at him in disbelief.

"Dean," she said quietly, putting her face in her hands. "That's not school, you idiot. That's 'Schoolhouse Rock'." She looked back up at him and he shrugged.

"Whatever."

"It's a wonder that you two are related," she muttered, looking between them. "I'm guessing _you_ have some idea what I'm talking about?" She turned to Sam who nodded.

"Okay, Dean, I know it's hard for you, but pay attention," Tawny said, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Roanoke was one of the first American colonies – late 1500s. One night they just vanished. The settlement was untouched except for a word carved into a tree – Croatoan. There were theories – Indian raid, disease, even alien abduction," Dean scoffed "but nobody really knows."

She dropped her hands as Dean scoffed again and looked around. "You don't think that's what's going on around here," he said, and Tawny stared at him.

"Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good," Sam muttered, looking back at the carved letters. "But what do you think could do that?" he wondered aloud, looking at Tawny. Apparently he'd given up on Dean.

"I'm not sure, but demons have been around for thousands of years, so…" She waved her hands vaguely. Sam nodded, not soothed at all by her words.

"Yeah, like I said, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the yellow-eyed demon somehow, so…"

"We should get help," Sam suggested, looking between them. "Bobby. Ellen, maybe." Tawny nodded.

"Yeah, that's a good idea." She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone and flipped it open, but there was no signal. "I don't have a signal," she said, holding it up and waving it around. Sam and Dean both pulled out theirs and looked at them, frowning.

Tawny turned, spotting a payphone, which she walked over to and picked up the receiver. It only beeped, indicating it was out of service. She hung it up, turning to them, frustrated.

"The line's dead." She'd never admit it, but she was starting to get scared. She didn't like being cut off from the world, specifically from her father. Dean looked at her.

"I'll tell you one thing, if I was gonna massacre a town, this'd be my first step," he said, confirming her fears.

* * *

When they reached the Tanners', Tawny decided that she was going to poke around a bit while Sam and Dean went to the front door. The house was quaint, nestled into a peaceful grove of trees. Tawny imagined she would like a house similar to it, and wondered if Dean felt the same. Not that they would be shopping for houses any time soon. Never was more likely.

She walked along the side of the house, one hand lingering along the outside wall, the other hovering by her side, ready to grab her gun at the first sign of trouble. She made her way around the back, listening closely to the voices coming from the front of the house, waiting for any sounds of distress, but none came. She heard the door close and she rounded the corner of the house, watching as Dean, then Sam moved towards her, mimicking her movements. They climbed onto the deck up against one wall, looking in through a window.

What Tawny saw turned her stomach. A woman, probably in her mid-40s, was tied to a chair. Two men, presumable her son and husband, were standing over her. Her son bent to whisper into her ear before straightening, extending his arm out as his father held up a butcher knife. He slid it along his son's forearm, slicing open a deep gash the son held over a wound on his mother's shoulder. Tawny reached for her gun, suddenly queasy, as Sam and Dean did the same. Without warning Dean kicked in the door and the three charged into the house. Tawny saw Mr. Tanner raise the knife and run at Dean, and everything went hazy as she squeezed off three rounds, burying them deep in his chest. The sound of breaking glass as the son dove out the window hardly registered as she approached the man, ready to put another round in his head for good measure. Dean walked up next to her, putting a hand over hers, forcing her to lower the gun.

"He's dead," Dean whispered. Tawny lowered the gun, flinging her hair back over her shoulder as Dean walked over to where Sam was standing by the window. She ignored them, walking over to the woman bound to the chair. She pulled the towel out of her mouth before circling the chair to untie the rope holding her to it.

"We're here to help," Tawny said quietly, helping Mrs. Tanner stand. She didn't speak, only stared at the body of her husband. Tawny put her arms around the woman's shoulders, helping her walk as best as she could.

"Guys, I think she's going into shock," Tawny called to Sam and Dean. Sam walked over briskly, helping Tawny guide Mrs. Tanner out of the house as Dean wrapped the husband in a blanket. The ride into town was quick, and Tawny spent the entirety trying to keep her from passing out. As soon as Dean pulled up next to the family clinic, Tawny hurried out of the car and she and Sam helped Mrs. Tanner into the building.

"Hello?" Sam called, opening the door quickly. "Hello? We need a doctor here!"

A door behind the front desk opened and a young blonde in scrubs came rushing out. "Mrs. Tanner, what happened?" she asked, her voice calmer than the look on her face.

"She's been attacked," Tawny said, and the young woman turned.

"Dr. Lee," she called, and another woman walked through the same door. She was older, with light brown hair and kind eyes.

"It's okay," Tawny soothed, rubbing Mrs. Tanner's good shoulder gently as a sob escaped.

"Bring her in," Dr. Lee urged, and the young nurse guided the three of them into an exam room. She heard Dean come in a start talking to the doctor, but she wasn't paying attention to what he said. Tawny helped Mrs. Tanner up onto an exam table as Dean walked in, gently setting Mr. Tanner's body on another table. He walked up to her side, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets as Dr. Lee started on Mrs. Tanner's wounds. She asked her questions, slowly coaxing the full story out of the distraught woman. Tawny's concentration faded in and out until Mrs. Tanner made a tearful statement that sent chills up Tawny's spine.

"One minute, they were my husband and my son, and the next, they had the devil in them."

Tawny looked at her and started chewing her bottom lip. "We gotta talk," Dean muttered, and Tawny and Sam followed him out of the room. The walked into a small waiting room and Dean was the first to speak.

"Those guys were wacked outta their gourds," he said, turning to face them. Sam looked between them curiously.

"What d'you think? Multiple demons, mass possession?" he asked, and Dean frowned.

"If it is a possession, there could be more. God knows how many," he shrugged. "I mean, it could be like a freakin' Shriner convention."

"Great," Sam muttered, and Dean continued.

"Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town; you take it from the inside."

"I don't know, Dean," Tawny cut in, unable to shake the strange feeling that had settled into the pit of her stomach. "We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Tanner, or any of the usual signs. Hell, when's the last time you saw a couple bullets take down a demon?"

Dean shrugged and walked towards her. "Yeah, well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster." He turned to Sam.

"You know, if you would've taken out the other one there would be one less to worry about," he accused, and Sam looked at him with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, alright? I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid," he said, but Dean cut in.

"No, it was an 'it'. It's not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam."

Tawny was about to cut in when Dr. Lee walked into the room and Dean dropped it, turning towards her.

"How's the patient?" Sam asked, and the doctor shook her head.

"Terrible. What the hell happened out there?" Dr. Lee demanded, turning on Tawny. It was moments like this that she hated being a woman; whenever they met another woman on a hunt, she either hated Tawny or turned to her. Either way, it was annoying.

"We don't know," Tawny said, and the doctor glared.

"Yeah? Well, you just killed my next-door neighbor," she said reproachfully.

"Look, doc, we didn't have a choice," Tawny said, raising her voice. The doctor looked at her disapprovingly, but nodded her head.

"Maybe so, but we still need the county sheriff, I need the coroner."

"The phones are down," Sam reminded, and Dr. Lee nodded.

"I know. I tried. Tell me you've got a police radio in the car," she pleaded, turning to Tawny again. Tawny nodded. "Yeah, we do, but it crapped out just like everything else." The doctor sighed.

"I don't understand what is _happening_ ," she said.

"How far is it to the next town?" Dean asked.

"It's about 40 miles down to Sidewinder," she said, and Dean looked at Sam.

"Alright, we're" he hooked a thumb at Tawny "gonna go down there and see if we can find some help," he said, and clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder. "My partner will stick around and keep you guys safe." He and Tawny turned to leave, but the doctor spoke up.

"Safe from _what_?"

Dean glanced at Tawny and turned.

"We'll get back to you on that."

* * *

They made it about ten miles out of town when they saw the car. It was sitting perfectly in the right lane, like someone had parked it and walked away. When Tawny got closer she knew the occupants weren't that lucky.

Blood soaked the seats. Tawny had to swallow back a lump in her throat when she saw the empty car seat in the back. It was dark with blood. The front seats were in the same shape when she looked in at them, and she sighed heavily when she saw the large bullet hole in the windshield. Dean stared at her through the broken windows, then bent to pick something up. He held up a bloody knife and Tawny grimaced. They silently walked back to the car and climbed in, Tawny sliding all the way over so her side was pressed firmly against Dean's.

"You don't think they –" she started, but she couldn't bear to finish. Dean slid a hand on her knee and squeezed gently.

"I don't think any of them survived, sweetheart."

Tawny knew the sight of the blood-soaked car had an effect on him. He hardly ever called her 'sweetheart'.

They continued for another mile or so, and Tawny's chest tightened when a right curve revealed a make-shift roadblock. There were half a dozen men, all armed with rifles and shotguns, standing in front of half as many stalled cars. Tawny jumped when there was a loud _bang_ on the roof of the car, her grip tightening on the butt of her gun. A man was standing at Dean's open window, and the grin on his face made Tawny's stomach do a flip.

"Sorry. Road's closed," he said, glancing towards the small militia congregated a hundred or so yards away. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, we can see that. What's up?"

"Quarantine," the man answered, and Dean narrowed his gaze in mock-curiosity. "Quarantine?" he repeated. His hand stayed on Tawny's knee. "What is it?"

The man gave his head a marginal shake. "Don't know. Something going around out there."

"Uh-huh," Dean nodded, looking at Tawny briefly. Her hand was still gripping her gun tightly. "Who told you that?"

"County sheriff."

"Is he here?"

The man shook his head slightly. "No. He called. Say, why don't you and your pretty little lady get outta the car and we'll talk a little? She looks a little uptight in there."

Dean chuckled, and Tawny forced a smile. "Well," Dean said, looking at the gunslingers through the windshield before turning back to the man. "You _are_ a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way, and she's spoken for, sorry."

They both chuckled, but the man outside the window's grin was growing menacing, and Tawny didn't much like where this was headed. "I'd sure appreciate if you got outta the car, just for a quick minute."

Dean nodded, his grin fading. "Yeah, I bet you would," he said, suddenly shifting the car into reverse and hitting the gas. The man's grin turned into a harsh sneer and he grabbed Dean's jacket, using it as leverage to pull himself up into the car. All six men started shooting at once, thankfully missing the car. Dean swung the wheel around and the car pivoted, sending the man hanging out of the window flying into the grass.

To say they were hauling ass would be an understatement. Tawny glanced at the speedometer, watching as it passed 70, then 80, finally settling at just under 90 miles an hour. They slowed as they got into town, Tawny's chest constricting when she saw the empty streets. A gunshot made her jump, and she turned just in time to see the man they talked to earlier standing in the middle of the road, a hunting rifle pointed directly at them.

"Dean!" she yelled, her arm flying out to his him in the chest. He hit the brakes just in time to stop the car about a foot away from his knees.

"Son of a –" he muttered, his eyes wide.

"Get outta the car!" he yelled, gesturing with the barrel of the rifle. Dean and Tawny obeyed, and he cocked the gun when he saw Tawny's Colt, still held tightly in her hand. She raised it, hearing Dean do the same. The accusations started flying, Dean and the Master Sergeant yelling about which one was infected, then Tawny raised her hands.

"Shut up!" she yelled, putting a hand on Dean's to push his gun down. "We could do this all day. Just take it easy before someone gets killed, okay?" She looked between them and they both nodded, lowering their guns a bit.

"What's going on with everybody?" Sergeant asked, looking between them Tawny shook her head.

"We don't know."

"My neighbor—Mr. Rogers," Sergeant started, and Tawny groaned, knowing what the next remark would be.

"You've got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?"

Tawny turned and glared at him. "Time and place, Dean. Time and place," she muttered. He shrugged.

"Not anymore. He came at me with a hatchet. I put him down."

Tawny shook her head.

"He's not the only one," Sergeant continued. "I mean, it's happening to everyone."

"We're heading over to doc's place. There's still some people left," Dean offered, and Tawny nodded in agreement.

"No way, I'm gettin' the hell out," Sergeant responded.

"There's no _way_ out," Tawny said, gesturing behind them. "They've got the bridge covered. Come on."

She turned to get in the car, but Sergeant shook his head. "I don't believe you." Tawny groaned, fed up. They never believed her, and look where it got them?

"Fine, stay here. I don't give a damn." She and Dean climbed in the car, and after a moment Sergeant followed. He got in and pressed a handgun into Tawny's side.

"One wrong move and I shoot her," he said, looking straight at Dean. Somehow he knew that she was his weakness, but she chalked it up to them being "partners". Dean raised his own gun.

"You shoot her, I'll put one between your eyes, evil zombie or not," Dean responded tensely. Tawny looked between them and let out a shaky breath.

"How about no one does anything stupid and no one gets shot?" she suggested, rolling her eyes.

* * *

Explaining what happened to Sam made Tawny feel like she was in a horror movie. Well, every day of Tawny's life felt like a horror movie, but this was worse. It felt like an _apocalyptic_ horror movie, Tawny's least favorite kind. Telling Sam they were trapped like fish in a barrel was like telling him his puppy got hit by a bus.

Tawny was sure she looked the same way when Sam said Dr. Lee thought whatever was going around was a virus. They couldn't exorcise a virus, or shoot it, or do anything to get rid of it except kill those infected. She knew it was only a matter of time before Dean or she became infected. She hoped it was her; she could never put a gun to Dean's head and pull the trigger. Even the thought made it hard for her to breathe. Her vision was starting to swim when Sam brought up John's journal.

"Dad always had a theory about 'croatoan'. He thought it was a demon's name – sometimes known as Daeva or Reshef –" he started, but Tawny interrupted.

"A demon of plague and pestilence," she said. Her voice sounded far away, like she was under water. This was all some sick, demonic experiment and Rivergrove was a giant Petri dish.

"Well, that's _terrific_ ," Dean said, nodding. "Why here? Why now?"

"I don't know," Sam muttered looking away.

"Who knows how far this thing can spread?" Tawny said, her voice becoming clearer. "We've got to get out of here, warn people."

They looked at each other for a minute before Sarge's shouts distracted them.

"They've got one! In here!" he yelled, and the three of them made their way into the lobby.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, walking up to Sarge.

"The wife – she's infected," Sam explained, following close behind them.

"We've gotta take care of this," Sarge said quietly, looking between the three of them. "We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors – they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get."

Dean looked down, cocking his gun and they made their way to the room. Tawny wanted to protest, badly. She wanted to grab Dean and tell him he couldn't kill an innocent woman, that they should wait until they knew for sure there wasn't a cure. But you don't give a rabid dog a chance to bite you, and deep down she knew it was either them or Mrs. Tanner.

They walked into the exam room, where Mrs. Tanner was locked in a supply closet. Dr. Lee took one look at Dean's gun and put her hands up, stepping in front of the door. "We have to do it," Dean said, but the doctor stood her ground.

"You're gonna _kill_ Beverly Tanner," Pam, the nurse, said.

"Doctor, could there be _any_ treatment? Some kind of cure for this?" Sam asked, trying for a last hope. But it didn't come.

"Can you cure it?" Dean echoed, looking at her closely. She looked around, clearly distressed.

"For God's sake, I don't even know what 'it' is!"

Sarge raised his gun, and Tawny resisted the urge to pull out her own and do the same. "I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through."

"Just leave her in there! You can't shoot her like an animal!" Pam yelled, looking between them with wide eyes. Dean ignored her, looking between Sam and Tawny, who fell in line behind him, their guns drawn. Sarge also stood guard.

Tawny tried to block out Mrs. Tanner's pleas for her life, her accusations that they were the ones infected, not her, but it seemed the harder she tried, the louder Mrs. Tanner's voice got. She couldn't see the woman, but she could see Dean, and Tawny watched in horror as he took a step forward, a look on his face Tawny had never seen before and never wanted to see again.

Three shots rang out, and the sting of gunpowder filled the air.

* * *

There are a few moments of Tawny's life that she'll never forget. Her second birthday, just a blur with her mother's face; John scooping her up in his arms at the age of three as she stood in the basement, cold and covered in blood, crying from fear and confusion; Bobby tossing her the keys to her first car; Dean covered in his birthday cake at eighteen after Tawny had thrown her piece at him, just before an all-out food fight between Dean, Sam and Tawny John couldn't even yell at them for because they looked so ridiculous.

And now the click of a lock sliding closed as she looked at Sam during what could be his last hours. She'd stayed perfectly silent as Dean, Dr. Lee, and Sarge shouted at each other, only picking up bits and pieces of the fight. She was leaning against a desk, chewing her thumbnail, not even trying to hide the tears that were pouring down her face. She saw Dean turn out of the corner of her eye, clearly unsure of who to tend to first. Before Tawny knew it she'd launched herself across the room, hitting Sam with enough force to nearly knock the wind out of herself.

"Sammy…" she whispered, her arms around his shoulders, her face buried in his hair. "Oh, God, Sammy."

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her so close she was practically in his lap. She couldn't speak, couldn't sob. She could barely even breathe. She forced herself to take a lungful, if only just to remember what Sam smelled like. It was similar to Dean, yet so different. The smell of cotton instead of leather, Aqua Velva instead of Old Spice, and the fresh scent of soap that seemed to always be on the air around Sam. She pulled away, raking her fingers through Sam's hair.

"You need a haircut," Tawny said quietly, sniffling. Sam smiled sadly and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand down to press his lips to the center of her palm. He pulled away enough to keep his words from being muffled.

"You remember your sixteenth birthday?" he asked softly, his turquoise eyes staring deeply into her brown ones. She nodded, tears once again flowing freely down her cheeks. He pressed her palm to his cheek, leaning into it.

"You remember what I told you after?"

Tawny closed her eyes tightly. Of course she remembered. He'd taken her, trying to be gentle, but she was small, so she'd still bled. She made sure he knew it wasn't his fault, kissing him over and over, whispering her love for him. At that moment, she did love him, with all her heart. He'd held her afterwards and they talked for close to an hour. Just before drifting off he rolled over to face her, tucking her hair behind her ear so he could lean into it, like he was telling her a secret.

"You told me I'd always be your girl," she whispered, biting her lip to keep a sob down. He nodded.

"I don't care what Dean thinks," Sam said, looking over her shoulder at his brother. "You'll always be _my_ girl." He leaned towards her, resting his forehead against hers. After a moment, he spoke.

"You two should get outta here," he murmured. Tawny could feel his breath, warm and muggy, across her mouth. She shook her head gently.

"No."

She pulled away, out of his grasp and looked at Dean, who shrugged.

"I wish we had a deck of cards or a foosball table or something," he said nonchalantly, walking over to hover behind Tawny. She looked between them, unsure of who to turn to. She chose Sam, leaning up against his left side. She would tend to Dean later.

"Dean, don't do this," he muttered, looking at his older brother as his own tears stained his face. Dean looked at him doubtfully. "Just get you and Tawny the hell outta here."

"No way," Dean whispered, glancing at Tawny's hand where it rested on Sam's knee. He wouldn't look her in the eye, which was a sure sign he would break down completely if he did. She'd never consider that her tears would affect him like this.

"Give me my gun, and leave," Sam said sternly, reaching out to Dean. Dean just stared at him.

"For the last time, Sam, _no_ ," Dean replied, turning towards the desk. He'd taken a few steps when Sam slammed his fist against the table, making Tawny flinch away from him. Her tears started back up and she angrily wiped them away, just wishing she could wake up and find herself in Dean's arms. Hell, she'd even take waking up alone if it meant getting the fuck outta here.

"This is the dumbest thing you've ever done," Sam accused, focused on Dean. Dean frowned deeply, shaking his head.

"I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" He grimaced.

"Dean, I'm sick," Sam said quietly. "It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you two."

"No?"

"No, you can keep going!"

"Who says I want to?" Dean asked quietly, and Tawny looked at him. That was one was to stop her tears.

"What?" she breathed, taking a step towards him, reaching out, but she decided not to at the last minute. Dean saw the move, but ignored it, turning to take Tawny's previous perch on the edge of the desk.

"I'm tired, Tawny. I'm tired of this job… this life… this weight on my shoulders, babe. I'm tired of it."

"So, what? So, you're just gonna give up? I mean, you're just gonna lay down and die? Look, I know this stuff with dad had -" Sam started, but Dean stopped him.

"You're wrong," he said, looking at the floor. "It's not about dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but—"

"Then what is it about?"

Footsteps outside distracted them, and Tawny looked up, wiping her face and rubbing her palm on her jeans before pulling out her gun. Dr. Lee walked up and knocked on the door.

"You better come see this," she said once Dean pulled it open, and they looked at each other curiously before following her out of the building. Tawny crossed her arms over her chest against the chilly night air. The streets were dark and eerie, without a person in sight.

"There's no one," Dr. Lee said, looking at Tawny. "Not anywhere. They've all just… vanished." Tawny couldn't help but glance at the light pole where "Croatoan" had been carved. She'd come up against a lot, but this was probably the worst. It was one time she was glad she wasn't alone.

* * *

Tawny was lying in bed pondering her past when the door opened. Her hand slid under the pillow, reaching for the knife Dean kept there, but she didn't need it as he was the one who came in.

"Where's Sam?" she asked, watching Dean shrug off his jacket.

"He went to go pick up some food. I told him to take his time," he replied. Tawny couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. He sat at the foot of the bed and went to work unlacing his boots, so Tawny crawled over to him kneeled at his back, reaching out to smooth her palms over his shoulders, slowly working at the knotted muscles she found. He paused at her touch, leaning back slightly and closing his eyes.

"Feels good," he murmured. Tawny smiled and kissed the back of his head, continuing her ministrations as he moved on to his other boot. Once they were both off he pulled off his socks.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly said, his voice quiet. Tawny's hands stilled and she was thoroughly confused.

"For what?" she asked, leaning forward to rest her chin on his left shoulder. He hadn't shaved in at least two days, so his cheek was like sandpaper against hers. She liked it.

"For being so…" He waved his hands vaguely and frowned. "Sad?" Tawny finished, and he chuckled.

"Dean, you're not too macho to be sad," she insisted, sliding her arms around his waist from behind. His palms drifted along her arms, covering her clasped hands.

"I know you hate to admit it," she continued quietly. "Just the fact that your dad died is enough, but with everything else that's happened, I think we're lucky you aren't a complete mess." She nuzzled her nose against the side of his neck, kissing it lightly.

"Just promise me that you won't keep pretending you're okay. Promise that you'll remember I'm here for you to talk to and I love you," she whispered. Dean nodded.

" 'Kay."

They sat like that for a minute or two, breathing together, Tawny feeling both horribly that Dean was so sad, but happy at the same time that she finally had the chance to be the one to comfort _him_ , as opposed to the other way around, like it usually was.

"What did Sam mean about your sixteenth birthday?" Dean suddenly asked. Tawny grimaced. This was something she wanted to tell Dean, just not when they could very well be burying Sam instead of waiting for him.

"He, uh, did me a favor," Tawny said cryptically, hoping Dean would take this easily.

"What kind of favor?" Dean asked, turning so he was facing Tawny. She looked down, bringing her hands around to his chest. One hand went up to play with the charm around his neck. The charm that was supposed to be for John, but Sam gave to Dean. She remembered picking it out when she was nine or ten. Tawny thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully.

"I always had this idea about men," she started, rolling the small piece of metal in her palm. "I never wanted to choose the wrong one to be with. I guess I was always worried I'd lose my innocence to someone who wouldn't appreciate it or something. I don't know. Sam asked if I was a virgin and I was, and I didn't just want to give it away to someone I didn't know, someone who could hurt me. So I asked him."

She looked up at Dean's face and saw a look she couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't a hurt look, per say, but there was guilt. And sadness. Tawny suddenly hated herself a little for not telling Dean sooner.

"Why didn't you ask me?" His voice was quiet, and Tawny couldn't help the tears coming to her eyes. She wondered why she was suddenly so emotional around them. She hardly ever cried around Bobby.

"Well, for one, I was jail bait," she pointed out stupidly. With the laws they broke every day, even then, she knew this was a lame excuse. Dean apparently agreed because he raised an eyebrow. "Sam and I were so close, Dean. It just felt… right."

Then Dean grabbed Tawny's waist and pushed her down onto her back. He pressed his lips to hers and she sighed contentedly. His lips were her biggest distraction. They were so full and soft she was sure that she could happily spend the rest of her life just lying in bed kissing him, like right now.

His tongue slid across the seam of her mouth and she parted her lips, letting his tongue probe gently as he slid them up the bed. Her head had reached the pillows by the time he pulled away, breathing deeply, his chest pressed against her side. He paused then, settling his weight on his right arm to run his fingers along her cheek.

"I'm sorry for not asking you," she whispered, her fingers finding the bottom of Dean's shirt to push it up. She grasped his hip bone, rubbing circles against the soft skin with her thumb. Dean kissed her forehead. "I forgive you," he offered, and Tawny leaned into him, kissing his lips softly. She pulled away, a question flooding her mind.

"What were you gonna say, back when we were having our little heart-to-heart with Sam?" she asked suddenly, extremely curious for the answer. Dean looked down, running his fingertips across her collarbone.

"C'mon, Dean. You promised," she reminded, pouting a little. He opened his mouth, closing it again, like he was trying to choose his words carefully.

"I was gonna say that I love you," he said, and Tawny smiled softly, turning her body so she could face him. He continued.

"I was gonna say that, if I had a choice, I'd stop hunting and I'd – I'd settle down. With you," he whispered. Tawny watched a blush creep up his face as he pointedly avoided her gaze. She put a palm to his cheek, forcing him to face her.

"You'd ask me to marry you?" she asked softly. He finally met her gaze, nodding softly. She suddenly could help herself and she burst out laughing. Dean leaned back, offended.

"Oh, God, no, no, no," she managed, giggling violently. She sat up, trying to calm herself down. Dean followed suit, looking at her reproachfully. She finally composed herself, looking at him with swimming eyes.

"Sorry, it's just… You? In a tux?" she said, a few more giggles escaping. Dean grinned. "No tux. Something I can wear my leather jacket with," he said, and Tawny agreed.

"No tux."

She kissed him, catching him by surprise as she pulled him close. She swung her leg across his lap, straddling his hips as she pushed at his chest. He lay back and she took advantage, giving him a few open mouthed kisses before pulling away. She peppered kisses along his jaw line, ignoring the smirk he had on his face, slowly moving down his neck. She kissed all of the visible skin, down to the small bit of chest peeking out of his shirt. She loved this shirt; the fabric was soft from him wearing it so often and this particular shade of grey brought out his eyes.

Tawny slowly made her way down to the hem, nuzzling and kissing through the fabric. She slowly nosed at the shirt, pushing at it with her fingers when she decided her nose wasn't doing a good enough job. When the shirt was above his belly button she kissed the soft skin beneath it, lapping softly at the sparse golden hairs leading into his jeans. She pulled at the button on his jeans, then the zipper, slowly pulling at them. She could feel him, hot and mostly hard, through the fabric.

"Up," she instructed, pulling his jeans and boxers down at the same time. She didn't have to look down to know his erection had fallen onto his stomach; she heard a distinctive _slap_ as skin met skin. She shoved at them when they were down to his knees, grinning when he kicked them off himself.

Tawny finally looked down, an aroused light flipping sensation in her belly when she saw his cock lying in the curls she was just admiring, leaking a copious amount of sticky pre-come onto Dean's lower stomach. Tawny wrapped a hand around his base, holding his erection out of the way so she could lick his belly clean, relishing the salty, tangy liquid. Dean was the only man she'd ever actually enjoyed giving head to. Every other time she did it because she felt obligated to, like she needed to return the favor, but with Dean, she did it because she wanted to. She glanced up to see him watching her intently, his eyelids heavy and his pupils large and dark.

The moan Dean let out when Tawny wrapped her lips around his leaking head was enough to make her start soaking though her panties. She slowly moved her head down, taking in as much of him as she could before sliding up and bobbing back down, quickly picking up a tantalizingly slow rhythm. After about a minute Tawny feels Dean shift, reaching down to tangle his fingers in her hair.

"Wanna be inside you," he muttered. Tawny obliged, pulling her mouth off of his dick with a filthy pop. She stood, quickly shucking out of her jeans and panties, pulling her shirt over her head. She crawled back over Dean, leaning down to kiss him as she ground her hips against his, her wet folds slipping over the underside of his cock.

He moaned, leaning his head back. "God, baby," he murmured, letting out a broken gasp when she angled her hips to let his head slide into her. Tawny slipped down, taking him in to the hilt. They both moaned, Dean looking up at her, his hands circling her back. He spread his palm between her shoulder blades, pulling himself up so he was sitting before deftly unclasping her bra and pulling it off her shoulders. Tawny pulled at his shirt, lifting it over his head and tossing it away before he slid up, leaning against the headboard. Tawny immediately grabbed it, using it as leverage to start moving again, rolling her hips. After only a few thrusts she was tightening around him, moaning into his mouth as she came. He followed suit, suckling her tongue as he shot heat into her. They sat there for what seemed like hours, trying to catch their breath, just holding each other.

"I love you," Tawny finally whispered against his neck, kissing it softly. She felt him grin.

"I love you, too."

He rolled, pulling out of her. She whined, pouting up at him as he stood.

"Shower?" he asked, and he didn't have to repeat it.

"Yeah. I think Sam's been through enough today, doesn't need to walk in and see his brother's naked ass," Tawny laughed, glad when Dean chuckled, too.

"It wouldn't just be my ass," he replied, grabbing both her cheeks to pull her hips to his. She could feel him already twitching to life again as he kissed her. She pulled away and rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the bathroom.

"C'mon, Casanova."


	8. Hurt Me

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x10: "Hunted" belong to writer Raelle Tucker. The lyrics to "Hurt Me" belong to Kerli._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tawny belongs to me._

 ** _So full of rage  
The human race  
Hold me while I'm fallin' down  
Rearrange what you have found  
Hurt me  
See me crawling on the floor  
Is that what you've been longing for  
Is this enough, do you want more  
Go on, if it makes you soar_**

The next day they wake up early and drive. Tawny isn't sure where Dean is headed, and she's not altogether worried about it. Sam's alive, Dean's finally letting someone else do some of the heavy lifting, and Tawny's got her boys. Life is good. They eat at about noon, stopping at some diner somewhere in Montana, then get back on the road. A few hours later they stop again, this time at a gas station where Dean fills the tank and buys a six pack. They're somewhere near water because his next stop is in some park. There's a rickety wooden fence that Tawny hoists herself onto, looking out over what Tawny assumes is some kind of inlet. It's actually a very peaceful spot, and Tawny likes the change. Sam and Dean join her, each nursing a beer. Tawny declines the one Dean offers her and Sam mirrors Tawny's position on the other side of Dean, who's leaning between them.

"So," Sam suddenly says after a long pull of his beer "last night – you wanna tell me what the hell you were talking about?" He stares pointedly at Dean, who glances at Tawny. He'd forced her to agree not to tell Sam what he'd told her, and Tawny plans on keeping her word.

"What do you mean?" Dean replies, looking up at Sam.

"What do I mean?" Sam repeats. "I mean you said you were tired of the job and that it wasn't just because of dad."

"Forget it," Dean says, looking back out at the water. Sam shakes his head.

"No, I can't. No way."

"C'mon man," Dean says, almost pleading. "I thought we were gonna die. You can't hold that over me."

"No, no, no, no, you can't pull that crap with me. You're talking," Sam insists, smiling. Dean grinned.

"And what if I don't?" Dean challenges. Sam looks out over the water, thinking.

"Then I'll just ask Tawny. I'm sure you told her." But Tawny holds up her hands.

"I'm staying out of this one. You two get to work it out," she says, grinning. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear then grabs Dean's beer, taking a drink before handing it back. It's warm, like she thought it would be.

"Okay," Sam says, looking at Dean. "Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking until one of you tells me."

Dean clenches his jaw, turning to lean his back against the fence. Tawny pivots, straddling the board so she can rest an elbow on Dean's shoulder.

"I dunno, man," he says, shifting. "I just think maybe we oughta… go to the Grand Canyon."

Tawny grins, leaning her head against her fist. She could just see Dean trying to ride a donkey and she has to stifle a laugh. He looks at Sam, who stares back in amused confusion.

"What?"

"Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across the country – Do you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon?" he says, looking at Sam expectantly. "Or we could go to T.J. or Hollywood – See if we could bang Lindsay Lohan." Tawny leans back and smacks the back of his head lightly.

" _You_ – See if you can bang Lindsay Lohan," he corrects, and Tawny pats his head lovingly.

"Good boy," she praises.

"You're not making any sense," Sam says, shaking his head. Dean looks away for a moment before looking up at Sam.

"I just think we should take a break from all this," Dean says, shrugging. "Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?"

Sam looks at him, and Tawny can tell he's becoming genuinely concerned. "Why are you saying all this?" But Dean turns away, taking a pull of beer.

"No, no, no, no, no," Sam says, hopping down to follow "Dean, you're my brother, alright? So, whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit."

Tawny jumps down from the fence and walks up next to Sam. Dean looks at her for help, but she crosses her arms over her chest.

"He's right, Dean. It's not fair to you," she says softly but firmly. Dean looks away, obviously annoyed that she didn't say what he wanted to hear. She hated to do it, but sometimes she needs to side with Sam to do what's best for Dean.

"I can't," he suddenly says, looking between them. "I promised."

" _Who_?" Sam asks.

"Dad."

Dean looks down and shuffles his feet. Sam stares at him, confusion crossing over his face again.

"What are you talking about?"

"Right before dad died… he told me something. He told me something about you," Dean says. Sam glances at Tawny, but she shrugs. She's just as clueless as he is.

"What?" Sam asks quietly. "Dean, what did he tell you?"

"He said that he… wanted me to watch out for you… take care of you," Dean says, and Tawny cocks her head. Now she's confused, too. She'd heard John tell Dean to watch out for Sam a thousand times over the years.

"He told you that a million times," Sam says, as if he could read Tawny's mind. But Dean shook his head, looking down.

"Well, this time was different. He said that I had to… save you," Dean says. Tawny takes a step towards him when she hears his voice break, but stops just short of hugging him.

"Save me from what?" she hears Sam ask, and she's curious for the answer.

"He just said that I have to save you and nothing else mattered, and that if I couldn't, I'd…" His voice breaks again and this time Tawny reaches out and grabs his forearm, letting him pull her to his side.

"You'd what, Dean?"

"I'd have to kill you."

Tawny suddenly feels nauseas, and it takes every fiber of her being not to turn and vomit into the pristine water.

"He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy." Now Dean's voice is quiet and Tawny looks up to see his lip trembling.

"Kill me?" Sam repeats, and Tawny suddenly can't see through the veil of her tears. Dean. Kill Sam. Sammy. None of this made any sense and it hurt her head to try to process it all.

"Why would he ask you to do that, Dean?" Tawny asks, pulling away from him, unable to help the scowl that appears on her face.

"I don't know," Dean answers, looking at his feet.

"I mean, he must have had some reason for saying it, right? I mean, did he know the demon's plan for me? Am I supposed to go dark side or something?! What else did he say, Dean?" Sam demands, his voice loud with distress.

"Nothing, that's it. I swear," Dean replies, shaking his head.

"How could you not have told me this?!" Sam accuses. By this point Tawny's turned away, incapable of looking at either of them.

"Because it was dad and he begged me not to," Dean answers, but Sam's yelling now.

"Who cares?! Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!"

"And you had the right to keep from me that you slept with my _girlfriend_?!"

Tawny turns so fast she loses her footing for a moment, nearly toppling to the ground, but quickly regains it, running over to Dean. She pushes on his chest, catching him off guard. He stumbles back a step before grabbing her wrists.

"Shut up!" she yells, pulling away from Dean to turn to Sam, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. "Just, both of you, shut _up_!"

Tawny starts sobbing, not even bothering to make an attempt at stopping it, and buries her face in her palms. She almost lost Sam. She knew that if Dean had been forced to take his brother's life, she would have lost him, too. And now, here they are, back in that doctor's office, Dean with his finger on the trigger. Only this time it isn't Mrs. Tanner in the corner, its Sam. Beautiful, innocent, naïve Sam, who'd never purposefully hurt anyone in his life. No matter how much she loves Dean, Sam will always have a piece of her heart, and right now it feels like that piece is being ripped from her chest. She collapses, ignoring the pain of her knees hitting the pavement. Someone wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest, and the smell of Old Spice tells her it's Dean.

"I didn't want this, Sam. I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth," Dean says softly, rubbing Tawny's back, trying to soothe her while explaining himself to Sam. "If he hadn't I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day."

Tawny hears Sam walk away before turning around. "We just gotta figure out what's going on then, what the hell all this means," he says. Tawny looks up, sniffling softly. She lets Dean pull her to her feet before she wraps her arms around his waist and lays her head on his chest.

"No, Sam. I've been thinking about this," Dean says, resting his chin on the top of Tawny's head. "I think we should just lay low, you know? At least for a while – it'd be safer. Then that way I could make sure…"

"What?" Sam asks. Tawny's starting to wish they would stop already, give her some time to breathe. But she stays where she is, wrapped in Dean's arms. "That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?" Sam continues. Tawny pulls her head away and wipes her face, looking over at Sam. He's walking closer to them, a horrible look on his face.

"I never said that," Dean says quietly, but Sam pushes on.

"Jeez, you're not careful, you will have to waste me one day, Dean," Sam says. Tawny knits her eyebrows, unsure of what to think. Her thoughts seem muddy until Dean starts yelling.

"I never said that! Dammit, Sam! This whole thing is spinning out of control! Alright? You're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore!" he yells, the words seeming to tumble out before he can stop them. Sam turns his back, ignoring Dean as he takes a swig of his beer.

"And you're pissed at me, and I get it. That's fine. I deserve it," Dean continues until Sam turns around to glare at him. "But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?"

"Forget it," Sam growls, turning away. Tawny steps toward Sam, cutting in between him and Dean, and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Please, Sammy," she whispers, her hand sliding down his back. "Just give Dean some time, okay? Just, give him some time to think." Sam looks at her, his anger fading as he takes in the desperate look on her face, and nods. "Okay," he whispers, and Tawny sighs, wrapping her arms around his waist. His find their way around her back and they stand there for a minute before Dean clears his throat and ushers them back to the car.

* * *

Tawny isn't sure what time she wakes up, but she knows something is wrong. It feels different. Dean is breathing deeply at her side, his body pushed up behind hers, his face buried in her hair. She can feel his breath, warm and muggy, on the back of her neck. She's just beginning to fall back asleep when she realizes what's wrong: The other side of the room is silent.

She sits up gently, ignoring Dean as he rolls over, grunting in his sleep, and Tawny gazes across the room in the dark. Sam's bed is neatly made, and his bag isn't at the foot of it, like it always is. Icy panic clouds Tawny's senses and she gets out of the bed, crossing the room to check the bathroom, just in case he's in there, but he's not. He's gone.

"Dean," she says, her voice gruff from sleep. She clears her throat, starting to walk out of the bathroom, but by the time she gets to the bed she's sprinting. "Dean!" she repeats, louder this time. She flips the light on, leaning over Dean to shake him awake. He groans, but rolls over burying his face in the pillow.

"Sam's gone," she says loudly. This is enough to wake Dean, who jolts up out of sleep and looks at the neatly made bed. He reaches for his phone, swiping it off of the night table and dialing what she knows is Sam's number. She hears it ring faintly, then the voicemail picks up. Dean leaves a desperate message for Sam to call him as soon as he gets this and hangs up, gripping the phone tightly in his hand. Tawny looks at the clock.

"It's 3:45. We went to sleep around one so he can't be more than two, two and a half hours away," she says, quickly calculating the amount of time it would've taken her and Dean to fall asleep. Dean gets up, rubs a hand quickly through his short hair, and grabs his jeans off of the floor and slips into them. Tawny does the same, pulling off the shirt she stole from Dean the night before and tosses it to him. They don't need to speak as they pack; each of them knows their jobs and responsibilities so well that within ten minutes they're completely packed and throwing their bags in the trunk. They climb into the front seat and Tawny pulls out her cellphone, dialing Bobby's number. It rings a few times before he picks up, and when he does she knows he's just woken up.

"Yeah," he says gruffly.

"Daddy? It's me," she says stupidly. Of course it's her. Who the hell else would call him daddy? He immediately perks up and she can hear him pour something into a cup. It's either cold coffee, whiskey, or both.

"Hey, darlin'. How're you holding up?" he asks. She'd called him the night they got out of Rivergrove and told him everything. Well, everything except Dean almost killing that kid who turned out to be fine and the blood stained carseat. Bobby didn't really need to know that.

"Not so good. Sam's gone," she says, and there's a clatter on the other end.

"What?" Bobby asks, and she can hear him standing. She glances at Dean, whose jaw is clenched and is gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are purple. She reaches out and lays a hand on his thigh.

"We woke up about twenty minutes ago and Sam was gone. Bed made, no note, nothing," she says, looking out the window. She knows this is worse on Dean than it is on her, that this is exactly what Sam did when he went to Stanford. Just up and left in the middle of the night. The only difference is John isn't here to blame her for it.

"Well, I haven't seen him, but if I do I'll beat that boy senseless and give you and Dean a call. I may even tie him to a chair for good measure. Idjit."

Tawny can't help but smile a little. When she was younger she used to think he only looked after Sam and Dean because he was John's friend, but as she's gotten older she's realized that he really does love them.

"Thanks, daddy. I love you," she says quietly, grinning when he mutters it back. She hangs up and immediately dials another number.

"Who're you callin' now?" Dean asks, glancing at her.

"Ellen. I'm sure he'll go to the Roadhouse before he goes to our place," Tawny says, holding the phone up to her ear and watching Dean out of the corner of her eye.

It only rings once before Ellen picks up, and her southern drawl is tired.

"Harvelle's Roadhouse," she says, and the silence in the background tells her it past closing time.

"Ellen, it's Tawny Singer," she says.

"Tawny! How're you and the boys doin'?" Ellen asks, and Tawny can hear the smile in her voice. Too bad she has to ruin it.

"Ellen, Sam's missing. We're in Montana, so he might be headed your way."

There's a long pause and Tawny wonders if the call has dropped. Then Ellen lets out a sigh and speaks.

"If he shows up I'll give you a call," Ellen says, and Tawny thanks her before hanging up. Dean drives in silence for another fifteen minutes, and all Tawny can do is rub soft circles on his thigh and try to think of the words that would soothe him. Nothing comes to mind. She knows he's blaming himself for Sam leaving, just like he did five and a half years ago. She ponders telling him that Sam is an adult and Dean isn't responsible for the choices Sam makes, but before she can Dean jerks the wheel to the right, guiding the Impala onto the shoulder. He thrusts the gear shift into park and is outside before Tawny has time to register what's happening.

When she climbs out of the car Dean's pacing, his hands tugging at his hair as he tries desperately to keep it together. Tawny all out runs to Dean, her hands pulling at his arms as she gets him to stop walking and look at her.

"Tawny," he chokes out, and suddenly he's sobbing. He reaches out for her and she pulls him in, cursing Sam for doing this to Dean. She only has a moment to think about Sam, though, because Dean's slowly collapsing and Tawny can barely hold him up. She finally lets his weight pull her down and all she can do is try to make sure he doesn't hit the ground too hard. It's strange to be in this position. She's used to _her_ being the one who's curled against _Dean's_ body, her face buried in his chest, but this time it's his turn. His hands grope at the back of her shirt, fisting the material tightly as he cries. She can feel his tears soaking through the spot between her breasts but she doesn't care, only tangles her fingers in Dean's hair, doing her best to shush him.

"We're gonna find him, baby, I promise," she says softly, resting her cheek on top of his head. Dean mutters something that sounds distinctly like 'no' and she pulls away enough to cup his cheeks, angling his face so she can look at him. It breaks Tawny's heart to see a twenty-eight year old Dean, who is a man in every way, completely broken and resolved to sobbing on the side of some highway.

"Dean," she whispers, wiping at his tears with the pads of her thumbs. He won't look her in the eye, so she kisses his forehead, trying to let him know it's okay, she's here.

"Dean," she repeats, sternly, and Dean finally looks at her, his lips quivering with the force of trying to keep another round of sobs at bay. "Dean, we're going to find him," she insists, moving her hands down to either side of his neck. "It's Sammy, right? So who are the two people Sammy will go to?" she asks, and Dean is silent.

"C'mon, Dean. Who does he trust?" she asks. Dean swallows.

"Bobby – Bobby and Ellen," he says thickly.

"Yeah, and what did I just do?" she asks. She knows she's treating Dean like he's a two year old having a temper tantrum but sometimes things needed to be dumbed down for Dean to realize what they mean.

"You called Bobby and Ellen," Dean replies, squeezing his eyes shut. Tawny nods, leaning her forehead against his.

"They know he's headed to one of them, so all we have to do is wait," Tawny whispers against his lips. Dean's hands slide up to tangle in Tawny's hair, pulling her in for a kiss that's rough and wet and too perfect for this exact moment. His tongue probes its way into her mouth and she lets it, knowing that all Dean needs is to know he's not alone. He pulls away after a minute, breathing quick, muggy breaths across Tawny's mouth.

"You okay now?" she asks quietly, and Dean nods. "Want me to drive some?"

Dean nods again, standing and pulling her up with him. They walk back to the car and Tawny realizes it's still running. Dean climbs in, sliding over to where Sam usually sits as Tawny follows.

"Here," she offers after she closes the door, reaching down to pull his legs into her lap. She unties his boots, slipping them off of his feet and tossing them in the back seat.

"Lay down," she instructs, patting her leg. Dean does so, curling up in a ball to rest his head on the edge of her thigh. He buries his face in her hip and sighs deeply. Once Tawny has the car back into drive and in the direction of Nebraska, she tangles her fingers in his hair and starts to hum.

* * *

Dean doesn't drive again until that evening. He spends most of the day alternating between sleeping on Tawny's lap and staring out the window blankly. Tawny stops at a diner for a late dinner somewhere in northern Colorado and has to guide a semi-comatose Dean to a table. It takes him a moment to realize the waitress is there, and even then he doesn't seem to comprehend what she's asking him. Tawny orders for the both of them, apologizing to the older woman as Dean stares around with wide, lost eyes. Tawny has to urge him to eat, practically feeding him herself, and when Dean gets up to go to the bathroom Tawny pays and waits by the door for at least ten minutes, hoping Dean hasn't decided to have another melt down in a urinal or something. But he comes out and Tawny's surprised that he suddenly looks so alert. Dean walks up to her and she sees the collar of his shirt is wet, like he's been splashing water on his face.

"Keys?" Dean asks, holding his hand out expectantly. Tawny pulls them out of her jacket pocket but pauses, pulling them back up into her palm before they can touch Dean's.

"You sure?"

Dean nods and Tawny drops the keys, following him out to the car. They've been back on the road for another hour when Tawny's phone rings and the caller ID tells her it's Ellen, so she flips it open and glances at Dean.

"Hey, have you heard from Sam?" she asks bluntly. Now isn't the time for 'Hi, how are you?'.

"I have," Ellen confirms, and Tawny sighs, relieved. "But he made me promise not to tell you where he is."

Tawny threw up a hand, officially pissed off.

"C'mon, Ellen, please!" Tawny says desperately, and now Dean's looking at her, the line between his eyebrows more pronounced than ever. "Something bad could be going on here and Dean and I are all that dumbass has." There's a pause on the other end before Ellen speaks.

"Now, Tawny, they say you can't protect your loved ones forever," she says, and Tawny tries hard not to start screaming. She's glad she doesn't when Ellen continues.

"Well, I say screw that. What else is family for? He's in Lafayette, Indiana."

"Thanks, Ellen," Tawny says, hanging up before she turns to Dean. "Lafayette, Indiana."

Dean does a steady 90 the rest of the way, not stopping until they get to Lafayette. Tawny sees a payphone and tells Dean to pull over, running over to it. She grabs the phone book hanging from it, flipping it open to look for the first motel. She quickly finds it, slipping some coins in and cradling the receiver between her ear and shoulder. She dials the number and a man picks up.

"Blue Rose Motel, how can I help ya?" he drawls, and Tawny glances around at Dean, whose looking at her with raised eyebrows.

"Hi, my boyfriend's staying at a hotel in the area but he forgot to tell me which one and he won't pick up his phone. His name is Jim Rockford. He's really tall with brown hair and green eyes," she rambles, waving at Dean as he raises his hands. She turns her back on him as she hears shuffling.

"Yeah, he's here. Room 14."

Tawny thanks him and hangs up, tearing the page out of the book and running back to the car.

"Blue Rose Motel, room 14," she says, handing the page to Dean. It turns out the motel is around the corner and Dean pulls into the parking lot, coming to a stop when they come to room 14. Sam is in the window and Tawny sighs, relieved.

"Thank God you're okay," Dean mutters. Sam moves away from the window to reveal a woman standing in the room.

"Oh, you're better than okay," Dean says, grinning. "Sam, you sly dog." Tawny's glad to hear him laugh. Her happiness ends abruptly when the window explodes, sending Sam and the mystery woman to the ground. Dean and Tawny scramble out of the car, Tawny crouching against back door as she pulls out her gun.

"I think it came from that roof," Dean says, squinting up at a warehouse across the street. Tawny nods quickly.

"Okay, uh, I'll stay here and make sure no one goes in, you go take care of the crazy ass who's shooting," Tawny says, and Dean runs a few yards before turning back to her.

"Hey, Tawny?" Dean calls, and Tawny spins. "Don't get shot, 'kay?"

Tawny rolls her eyes and cocks her gun, sliding back down to crouch behind the open driver's side door. She isn't sure how much time passes before she hears footsteps behind her, but when she does she assumes its Dean and turns.

"What the hell took you so – Gordon?"

Gordon Walker shoots her a vicious grin before lunging at her, knocking the gun from her hands. Tawny claws at him but he manages to get ahold of her, pulling her back into his chest as he locks an arm around her throat. She can't breathe and she panics, grasping at his forearms but her struggle is pointless. He's too strong, and before long Tawny's vision starts to fade and the last thing she sees before she loses consciousness is Sam looking curiously out of the broken window.

* * *

When Tawny comes to she's tied to a chair and there's a rag in her mouth. She looks around and her vision's blurry, which probably isn't a good thing. She'd woken up in the back seat of Gordon's car when he got to an old run-down house and she'd tried to bite him, so he'd hit her over the head with the butt of her own gun. She assumes that the room she's in used to be the living room of the house. Tawny takes a deep breath through her nose and it smells like mildew, rotting wood and… Dean! She turns her head a little too fast and everything spins for a minute, but she can see Dean. And Gordon Walker.

She tries to yell obscenities at him but all that comes out is a muffled "Mmph!" so she settles with glaring.

"Man, you are _feisty_. Tell me, Dean, how'd you score such a hot piece of ass?" he asks, walking over to Tawny. He reaches out to run a finger down Tawny's cheek and she tries to lean away, but suddenly the room is rocking and it feels like her head is going to explode.

"Don't you fucking touch her," Dean spits, and Gordon chuckles.

"Protective, huh? Well, I can't blame him, sweetheart," Gordon says, but before he can do anything else Dean's phone rings. Gordon walks over and forces it out of Dean's pocket, glancing at the caller ID.

"Hey, look whose calling. Now, remember what we discussed, Dean. You warn him or give it away, and Tawny gets a shot in her pretty little knee, alright?" Gordon patronizes, flipping open the phone and holding it up to Dean's ear. Tawny doesn't catch most of the conversation since it's hard for her to focus and the only thing she can fit into her mind right now is that Gordon has her gun and she wants it back. Tawny's brain starts to work again after Gordon hangs up and lowers the gun.

"Now, was that so hard?" he asks and Dean looks away.

"Bite me."

Gordon just smiles and shoves the phone in his pocket before grabbing a duffle bag off of the floor, winking at Tawny when he sees her watching him closely. She isn't able to do anything other than narrow her glare, immediately regretting it what a bolt of pain shoots from the spot on her forehead where Gordon hit her with the gun. She feels warm blood start to ooze from it and a thought breaks through her foggy brain. What if she has a concussion? Or worse?

"Gordy," Dean suddenly says, and Tawny's thought fades away just as quickly as it came to her. "I know we ain't exactly your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"

"Oh, you think this is revenge?" Gordon asks, sliding a clip into a pistol.

"Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days," Dean answers, and Tawny looks over at him. As far as she can tell he's fine except for a bruise beginning to show on the left side of his forehead. "Which was awesome," he adds, chuckling.

"Sorry. I shouldn't laugh."

Gordon pauses but doesn't turn around.

"Yeah, I was definitely planning on whooping your ass for that." Dean hums in agreement and Gordon turns his head slightly, still turned away. "That's not what this is. This isn't personal."

Tawny's confused and she's pretty sure it's not just from the most-likely-concussion. How is shooting at someone then kidnapping the two people that care about him most _not_ personal?

"I'm not a killer, Dean," Gordon says, and if she wasn't in so much pain she'd roll her eyes. "I'm a hunter. And your brother is fair game."

* * *

Tawny isn't sure how much time passes as she flirts with the line between semi-consciousness and unconsciousness. She's able to pick up a few things when she drifts near the surface; Gordon saying something about a second tripwire as he holds a grenade, Dean arguing that he was being unreasonable, Gordon telling Dean he wasn't as strong as his dad. Dad. John. Bobby. Tawny's mind dips back under and

 _she's seven years old. She's sitting at the table in the kitchen. In front of her is a cupcake with a candle in it. Not just any candle, but the kind that flickers and sparks. She likes these kind because they remind her of the Fourth of July. The lights are off and she can barely see the faces of those huddled around her. John's sitting across the table with a broad smile on his face, and Tawny thinks he's handsome. Sam is sitting in his lap, the light from the candle dancing in his wide, gorgeous eyes. She looks behind her and see's Bobby smiling down at her. There's no grey in his beard and his smile is in his eyes. It takes her a minute to realize there's someone missing. Who? Who has she forgotten?_

 _An eleven year old Dean walks in holding a box. As he gets closer Tawny can see it's wrapped in newspaper. She can see a Marmaduke comic on the side and knows he picked the funnies because she loves them. He finally reaches her side and he's grinning down at her, handing her the box. "Happy birthday, Tawny," he says, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She takes the box and smiles widely. "Go on, make a wish," Dean urges, gesturing towards the candle. Tawny giggles and closes her eyes, making a wish that would turn into a prayer she would repeat every night for the rest of her life. She opens them and leans in, blowing out the candle and_

the entire house shakes with the force of the blast and Tawny's suddenly wide awake, and there's no pain in her head. She hears Dean screaming behind the gag Gordon must have put in his mouth while she was passed out.

"Hold on. Not yet. Let's wait and see," Gordon says quietly. He's holding his rifle and isn't even looking at them. A moment later there's a second blast and Tawny feels debris hitting her back and head. She can tell by Dean's broken, sobbing gasps that he thinks Sam's dead, but Tawny doesn't. She can't afford to think that right now. Her brain is working perfectly for the first time in what's probably been hours and she can't waste this opportunity. Gordon was so sure she'd stay at least semi-conscious that he'd tied her hands loosely behind her back and if he would just stay distracted she could get loose and make this son of a bitch pay for what he's done. Even if Sam lives Tawny's decided she's going to put a hole between his fucking eyes.

"Sorry, Dean," Gordon says quietly. She can tell by the tone of his voice that he isn't really sorry. He moves towards the back room and – ah ha! – she's free. She reaches around to pull the gag out of her mouth and stands. The room sways and she has to hold her arms out for balance, but as soon as she has her footing she turns, walking over to Dean.

"Are you okay?" she whispers, pulling the gag out of Dean's mouth to hang around his neck. She can hear that her speech is slurred and she hopes it's just from her mouth being so damn dry.

"Yeah, just go help Sam kill that fuckin' asshole," he gripes and Tawny straightens, grabbing a large piece of the door jamb as she makes her way into the back room on unsteady feet. She stumbles at one point, the bottom of her foot turning in and pain shoots through her leg, but she ignores it, raising the piece of wood and swinging it down towards Gordon's head just as he pulls out a knife. There's a sickening crack when it meets his skull and the wood splinters, and Tawny's glad to see a thin stream of blood start to flow before he rolls and hits the floor. He's still conscious but apparently not in control of his motor skills because he doesn't move when Sam stands and aims the rifle an inch away from his face.

"Do it," Gordon urges, a wild look in his eye. He looks rabid. "Do it! Show your brother the killer you really are, Sammy."

Tawny would have shot him, like he wanted, but not Sam. Sam instead turns the gun, smacking Gordon hard in the face with it and it knocks him out.

"It's Sam."

Normally Tawny would find this statement funny, but the room has started tilting again and she's started to hear a distinct buzzing sound, like hundreds of invisible bugs are swarming around her. She vaguely sees Sam walk back out to Dean and tried to follow, but stumbles again. She stops and leans in the open doorway, wiping at the side of her face. She looks at her hand and sees it's soaked in blood. When she looks up Dean is standing, holding Sam's face and looking him over. Tawny's vision goes in and out of focus as Dean stalks past Sam and she hears Sam say "Dean, no".

"I let him live once. I'm not making the same mistake twice," Dean fights, but Sam shakes his head.

"Trust me, Gordon's taken care of," Sam says, and Dean nods. He turns and seems to see Tawny for the first time.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, walking over to her. He touches a finger to her forehead and she pulls away a little too quickly and starts to fall, but Dean wraps an arm around her waist. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, sweetheart," he murmurs, kissing her softly. She looks blearily up at him and she's glad his face is in focus. "Can we go now?" she asks, and her speech is still slurred and this time she knows it's from the knock to her head. She should probably get to a hospital. Dean nods his head, pulling away but he rests his hand on her hips.

"Can you walk?" Dean asks, and Tawny quietly says "Yeah" but her feet betray her once she moves to take a step. She stumbles and Dean sweeps her up in his arms, letting her wrap her arms around his neck. He carries her gently out of the building and Sam follows, so Tawny reaches out to him. He smiles softly and takes her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Love you, Sam," she murmurs, and then she passes out.

* * *

 _Bright lights._

That's what Tawny's first thought is when she finds consciousness. She can feel them beating down on her, and they hurt. Her head throbs and her mouth is dry and there's something heavy on her thigh and it's making her hot. And the _beeping_. The beeping makes Tawny want to scream. Instead, she opens her eyes and looks down. It takes her a moment to realize that the snoring lump at the edge of her bed is Dean, and when she does she tries to say his name, but all that comes out is a groan. He stirs, wiping his sleepy eyes with heels of his hands before looking at Tawny.

"Well, hello there, sleepy head," Dean says, scooting his chair closer to her. The scraping makes sharp pain shoot across Tawny's head and she grimaces, trying to raise a hand to her head, but her arm is too heavy. Dean takes the hand in his, closing his palm around her thumb to raise her hand to his cheek.

"Gordon?" she manages, and Dean can tell her mouth is dry. He puts her hand back down and reaches for a cup on the side table. He holds a straw to her lips and she takes a pull, closing her eyes in pleasure as the cool liquid runs down her throat, re-wetting her tongue and the insides of her cheeks before running down her throat.

"Sam took care of him. He's gonna be in prison for a while," Dean explains vaguely, and Tawny's glad. She's not sure her brain can take too much information at the moment. He sets the cup back down and goes back to holding her hand, turning it in his so he can press a few kisses into her palm. She can feel his lips quivering before he presses her hand to his cheek again, closing his eyes tightly.

"I'm so fuckin' sorry, Tawny," he whispers. A tear escapes the inside corner of his eye and rolls down his cheek, ghosting along her hand. She looks at him, her own tears appearing, and shakes her head as much as she can without it hurting, which isn't much.

"It's not your fault, Dean," Tawny says, her voice scratchy. Dean opens his eyes again and looks at her. The brilliant green is bright in the fluorescent light. It's the color of clover and Tawny smiles a little, but Dean doesn't return it.

"Yes, it is," he insists. "If I had just told Sam the truth – what dad made me promise – he never would have left and we never would have gone after him and if we never had to go after him then Gordon never would have kidnapped you and given you this fuckin' concussion and you wouldn't be in a hospital bed." The words spill out quickly and Tawny has a hard time keeping up, but she gets the gist of what Dean's trying to say.

"Dean," she finally whispers after a minute or two. "Dean – your dad never should have put this weight on your shoulders. He knew what Sam means to you and he never should have made you Sam's possible executioner. It wasn't fair to either of you. None of this is your fault."

Dean stares at her for a long time, his mouth pressed into her palm, his eyes misty. The silence becomes too much and she finally sighs. "So, what's the damage?" she asks, pointing to her head with the free hand.

"Grade-three concussion," he says quietly, and Tawny sighs. "You were passed out for about nine hours total."

"What did you tell them when you brought me in?" she asks curiously, and Dean grins for the first time in at least a day and a half.

"That you fell out of the car and hit your head on a rock," he says, doing his best not to laugh. She giggles and immediately regrets it. Another bolt of pain shoots through her head and Dean's smile disappears.

"Baby? You okay?" he asks, leaning up to look at her closely. She just now realizes there's a bandage on her forehead.

"I look ridiculous, don't I?" she asks quietly, and Dean smiles. It doesn't extend up into his eyes.

"You look beautiful," he says softly, kissing her. "Liar," she murmurs against his lips. He leans back and grins, kissing her cheek before sitting back down. "Go back to sleep, you." He rubs her thigh affectionately and she yawns as if on cue. "Will you stay?" she asks quietly, trying not to close her eyes until he answers.

"Of course, baby. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."


	9. Walking on Air

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x11: "Playthings" belong to writer Matt Witten . The lyrics to "Walking on Air" belong to Kerli._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tawny belongs to me._

 ** _There's a little creepy house in a little creepy place  
Little creepy town in a little creepy world  
Little creepy girl with her little creepy face  
Saying funny things that you have never heard  
Do you know what it's all about?  
Are you brave enough to figure out?  
Know that you could set your world on fire  
If you're strong enough to leave your doubts _**

"Sam, will you freaking sit _still_?"

Tawny pulls the comb and scissors in her hands away, trying not to slap Sam. He's needed a haircut for weeks and now that Sam's finally agreed to take a little down-time, Tawny's taken the chance gratefully. An hour ago she'd practically forced Sam to take a shower so she could reshape his shaggy mane. Now he's sitting in a chair in his boxers, water adorning his chest. Dean desperately needs a trim, too, but Tawny's not sure she's going to have the patience to deal with him after this. Sam shifts again, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"It tickles!" he protests, and Tawny bats his hand away.

"It's gonna tickle, but if you keep moving it's gonna be uneven and piss me off and I'm going to shave your head in your sleep," she threatens, running the comb down the back of his head to smooth out the chocolate brown locks. She loves his floppy hair too much to actually cut it all off, but if the fear of a shaved head keeps Sam from moving around too much, fine. She's trimming a section at the base of his skull when he moves his shoulders slightly, causing her to cut at a drastic angle.

"God-dammit, Sam! I am not above tying your twitchy ass to this fucking chair!" she practically yells, and a sharp pain shoots through her temple. She'd gotten out of the hospital a month ago and the concussion is almost healed, but she's still limited in what she can handle. Sam settles again, looking down in guilt.

"Sorry," he mutters, lacing his fingers. "I promise I'll stop moving."

He keeps his promise and Tawny finally finishes trimming his hair, ruffling it back into its usual part before circling him and putting a hand under his chin. "Close your eyes," she says softly, lifting his face toward to ceiling, and Sam obeys without question. She trims the front of his hair carefully, squinting to make sure it's even. When she's satisfied she leans back.

"Done, babe," she says softly, running her fingers through the front of his hair, and Sam opens his eyes. He stands and walks over to the mirror over the dresser, running his hands through his hair. He grins. "That's so much better. I don't look homeless anymore."

Tawny stares at him for a moment. "Sam… You _are_ homeless," she says bluntly. She's afraid the comment is a little too harsh, but Sam just grins and walks over to her.

"Thanks, Tawny," he says. He presses a kiss to her forehead, careful to avoid the bruise that's just starting to disappear, but is still a sickly yellow-green color. He moves to grab the broom and dustpan Tawny took out while he was in the shower, but she shakes her head.

"Don't bother," she says. "I still have another victim."

As if on cue, the bathroom door opens and Dean walks out, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

"Dude," he says to Sam, pulling a face as he crosses the room. "Put some clothes on."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Says the one in just a towel."

Dean grins. "Tawny thinks it's sexy. Right?" He flexes his muscles, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes, but can't help noticing a drop of water roll down one side of his stomach, following the v-cut of muscle leading down into the towel.

"Sit," she instructs, pointing him to the chair. She doesn't bother combing through his hair, just starts cutting the top by sight. She's been cutting Sam and Dean's hair for so long she could probably do it in her sleep. She's reaching for the electric clippers Dean keeps when Sam walks over, fully clothed.

"I'm gonna go get a pizza. I'll be back in thirty," he says, pulling on his jacket. He kisses Tawny's cheek quickly before heading out the door.

"He's affectionate," Dean says nonchalantly, but Tawny hears the edge in his voice.

"He loves me. You gonna do something about it?" she snaps, and when Dean falls into silence, she turns on the clippers, trimming the back of his hair quietly. A minute or so later she's done and she swipes at Dean's shoulders, but the wet hair sticks to his freckled skin. "Dammit," she mutters, looking around for something to wipe the hair away with, but she finds nothing. Dean seems to know what she's doing, though, because he stands and pulls the towel from around his waist. He offers it to Tawny, who takes it and gently wipes his shoulders clean.

"Done?" he asks, and Tawny nods, grabbing the comb and scissors in one hand as she raises the other to the row of stitches along her hairline, closing her eyes. Luckily Gordon hit her on the opposite side of her part, so, as long as she keeps her hair flipped to that side, no one will see the scar that's sure to form. She hears Dean step closer to her and he puts a hand on her hip.

"You okay, baby?" he asks cautiously, and when Tawny looks at him he's watching her with wide eyes. The green orbs are full of concern, and Tawny can't help but feel guilty for putting him through this. She knows what it's like to see the person you love in a hospital bed, and she prays to God that neither of them will ever have to go through that again, even though it's a primary job hazard.

"I'm fine, just a little headache," she reassures, but the concern doesn't leave Dean's face.

"Go lay down," Dead says, but Tawny shakes her head.

"I've gotta clean this up."

She reaches for the broom but Dean grabs her wrist. "I'll get it, you go rest. Doctor's orders," he repeats. _Yeah, and the doctor also expects me in his office tomorrow morning, but I'm three hundred miles away_ , she thinks, but she doesn't say it, only hands Dean the comb and scissors before skirting around the circle of hair to get to the edge of the bed she and Dean were sharing. She slips out of her tank top and jeans, reaching for the shirt Dean tossed aside before his shower and she pulls it over her head carefully. She inhales when her face is completely covered, taking in the intermingled smells of Old Spice and leather and gunpowder and sweat that is so exclusively Dean. When she finally pops her head out she catches Dean watching her. She smirks at him and he blushes just enough that Tawny can tell.

"You missed some over there," Tawny says, pointing at a general spot at the foot of Sam's bed, grinning in satisfaction as Dean turns, bending slightly at the waist to look for the hair Tawny supposedly sees. His back is dreamily muscled and Tawny watches as each one ripples beneath his lightly tanned skin as he moves. She follows the curve of his spine with her eyes until it reaches the end, and she stares at his perfect ass. His olive skin tone makes even that skin look tanned, even though Tawny knows it's never seen sunlight. Well, except for that time in Dallas when Sam dared him to go skinny dipping in the motel swimming pool. She hadn't thought about that in a long time.

"Tawny, I don't see any – hey, are you staring at my ass?"

Tawny's so lost in thought she doesn't notice Dean has turned around until he speaks, one eyebrow raised at her suspiciously. Her face suddenly feels hot and she blushes, turning her attention to the sheets, lifting them up and slipping between them.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she mutters, turning her back to him and closing her eyes. She hears him shuffling around and the bed dips. Her body tilts until her hip bumps something solid, and when she peeks one eye open she sees Dean's grinning down at her, his hip right against hers.

"You were _so_ checkin' me out, weren't you?" he jests, and Tawny sighs, mildly annoyed at his persistence.

"Fine, I was checking you out," she admits. She rolls onto her back and he puts a hand on her flat stomach. "Knew it," he murmurs as he leans over her to kiss the tip of her nose. He kisses each of her cheeks before finally pressing a kiss to her lips. His tongue has just slipped into her mouth when the door opens and Sam walks in. They both look at him and he stares back, suddenly realizing that Dean is naked. His mouth twists in disgust and he raises an arm over his eyes, shielding himself from further torture.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Dean! Put on some fucking clothes, dickhead!"

* * *

When Tawny wakes up she's in bed alone. After Dean had gotten dressed and they'd eaten, he'd curled up behind her, holding her until she fell asleep. She picks up her phone to see that she'd slept soundly through the night and it was almost ten. Tawny sits up and rubs her eyes before looking over at Sam, who's sitting at the kitchen counter in front of his laptop with his phone against his ear. The door opens and Dean walks in, carrying three cups of coffee and a paper bag.

"Okay. Thanks, Ellen," Sam says before hanging up. Dean sets the bag down on the coffee table before turning to Sam.

"What'd she have to say?" he asks, grinning at Tawny as she climbed out of bed and made her way to him, groggily wiping at her eyes. Dean sets the coffees on the counter by Sam before holding out an arm, letting Tawny tuck herself into it and bury her face in his jacket.

"She's got nothin'," Sam says, setting the phone down. "Me, I've been checking every database I can think of, federal, state and local. No one's heard anything about Ava. She just – into thin air, you know?"

There's a short pause where Dean presses a kiss to the crown of Tawny's head and she turns, looking at Sam. He's got that lost puppy look again, and Tawny can't help but want to hug him. Fuckin' giant has to go and be all cute and pathetic-looking at the worst times.

"What about you?" he asks, looking at Dean hopefully as Dean reaches out with his free hand to pop the lid off of a cup. He picks it up and looks at it, handing it to Tawny when he sees its light with cream. Tawny sips at it, trying not to burn her mouth, but she does anyways. Dean grabs a second cup and looks at Sam.

"No, same as before. Sorry, man," he says, taking a swig. Sam takes the third cup and twists at the lid.

"Ellen did have one thing," Sam says hesitantly, looking between them. Dean hummed his interest, looking at Sam curiously.

"Uh, a hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut – two freak accidents in the past three weeks."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, what's that have to do with Ava?" he asks, confused. Tawny pulls away and grabs the bag Dean brought in, grinning when she sees that its full of muffins. She grabs a blueberry one, picking at it as Sam speaks.

"It's a job," Sam says obviously as Dean walks over and sets his cellphone on the bedside table. He looks back at Sam as he continues. "I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub, then a few days ago, a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete 180, which isn't exactly normal, you know?"

Dean nods, shrugging off his jacket, and watches Tawny for a second as she picks a blueberry out of the muffin. She sticks the pad of her thumb in her mouth and sucks on it, raising her eyebrows at Dean. He grins and Sam continues.

"I don't know, Dean – it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out.

"You did?" Dean asks. Sam gets out a quiet "Yeah" as Dean sits on the edge of the bed. Tawny joins him, handing him the uneaten half of her muffin. He takes it in silence, looking up at Sam.

"You seem surprised," Sam says, shaking his head.

"Well, yeah," Dean says. "It's just, you know… not the patented Sam Winchester way, is it?"

Sam raises his eyebrows and shifts uncomfortably. "What way is that?"

"Just figured after Ava there'd be, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows," Dean says. Tawny can't help but grin. That definitely sounded more like Sam, but Sam just stares at Dean with raised eyebrows. "I'll shut up now," Dean says, sliding a hand over Tawny's bare knee before turning to lean up against the headboard. She scoots up next to him, once again settling against his side, safely tucked under his arm.

"Look," Sam says, and there's more of the classic sweet-innocent-Sam-is-blaming-himself-for-something-he-has-no-control-over softness to his voice. "I'm the one that told her to go back home." He stands, walking over to them. "Now her fiancé's dead, and some demon has taken her off to God knows where, you know?" He circles the bed, looking down at them, and Tawny's got that conflicted 'Do I comfort Sam in front of Dean?' feeling in her chest.

"We've been looking for a month now, and we got nothing" he says, and he sits on the other bed, frowning. "So I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not gonna let other people die, either. We gotta save as many people as we can."

Dean nods softly, his lips pressed to Tawny's temple in thought.

"Wow," he finally says, pulling away. "That attitude is just way too healthy for me. I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you." Sam just grins.

"That's what you get for making me see your naked ass."

"Hey," Dean says, offended. "Tawny was totally checking out my naked ass before you cock-blocked, cock-block. So it's your own damn fault for not making sure you _weren't_ about to cock-block." He pauses, grinning down at Tawny expecting approval, but she just rolls her eyes.

"Alright," Dean says, caving. "Call Ellen. Tell her we'll take it."

* * *

"Dude, this is _sweet_."

Tawny looks at Dean, her eyes wide.

"Dean, this place is like a mini Overlook Hotel," she says, closing the car door and staring up at the Pierpont Inn. Dean looks at her, excitement brightening his eyes.

"I know!" he exclaims. He sounds like a little kid. "I never get to work jobs like this."

"Like what?" Sam asks, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"Old-school haunted houses," Dean says like it's obvious. "You know – fog, secret passageways, sissy British accents."

"Ghosts of creepy-ass little girls that want you to stay and play with them forever and ever and ever," Tawny adds quietly, hitching her own bag up higher on her shoulder as she follows them. If Dean hears her, he pretends not to and continues.

"Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside," he finishes, chuckling. "Mmm, Daphne – love her. Hey, Tawny." He turns and she pulls her eyes away from the inn. "You think if I found you a wig you could –" he starts, but Tawny cuts him off.

"Dean, I would rather screw Dick Clark," she says, climbing the steps to the front door, ignoring Dean's disappointed frown. She glances down at an urn and a flash of red catches her eye.

"Hey, wait a second," she says, and Sam and Dean pause, turning towards her. She leans in closer, looking at the symbol that jumped out at her. "Guys, I'm not so sure haunted's the problem."

"What d'you mean?" Dean asks, walking down to stand next to her. Tawny places her finger under a small 'x' with small red dots on each point and one in the middle of the cross carved into the side of the urn.

"You see this pattern here? It's a quincunx – a five-spot. It's used for hoodoo spell work," Tawny explains, looking up at Dean. He raises his eyebrows. "How does it work?"

"You fill the urn with Bloodweed and it becomes a powerful charm to ward off enemies. Only I don't see any Bloodweed." She glances around just to be sure, but she doesn't spot any.

"Don't you think this place is a little too, uh, white-meat for hoodoo?" Dean asks, and Tawny looks at him and shrugs. "Stranger things have happened, Dean," she says, patting his arm as she walks up to the door. Inside it's just as creepy as outside, if not more. All of the decorations scream _Hey I could be a possible cursed object!_ and Tawny hopes she doesn't have to assume any of them are.

Before the door closes a woman walks into the lobby and Tawny smiles at her. She appears to be in her mid- to late-thirties, and she's sharply dressed in a pin skirt and matching sweater. Dean speaks up first.

"Hi. We'd, uh, like a room for a couple of nights."

A little girl suddenly bursts into the room and rushes past them, giggling, and Tawny grins.

"Hey!" the woman yells, and looks up at them apologetically. "Sorry about that."

"No problem," Tawny says, smiling. "We were all that age once. It's fine."

The woman nods before speaking.

"Well, congratulations. You could be some of our final guests."

Dean and Tawny look at each other.

"Well, that sounds vaguely ominous," Dean chuckles, grinning at Sam.

"Oh, no. I'm sorry," the woman says desperately. "I mean we're closing at the end of the month. Let me guess, you're here antiquing?" She looks pointedly at Tawny, who nods when Dean bumps her with his elbow.

"Yeah – I love antiquing. They hate it though, since I always drag them with me," Tawny says lightly, smiling. "How'd you know?"

"Oh, you just look the type," she replies politely, and Tawny shoots Dean a sideways glance. "So, a single and a king for the newly-weds?" She leans down to pull out a guest log and looks between them, specifically Dean and Tawny.

"Oh – We aren't married," Tawny says a little too quickly, pointing between her and Dean. The woman looks surprised and then glances at Sam. "No, uh, we're _together_ ," Tawny says, looking at Dean, "but we're not _married_." She moves closer to him to reiterate what she said and he grabs her hand.

"Not yet, anyway," Dean says, and for a moment Tawny isn't sure if he's just playing the part or if he's serious. Before Tawny can wonder for too long, Dean looks back at the woman and tells her two rooms are fine.

"Speaking of antiques," Sam says, stepping up to the counter. "You have a really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?"

She looks up from the receipt she's writing out and shakes her head. "I have no idea. It's been there forever," she says, handing Dean back his card. "Here you go, Mr. Mahogoff." She rings the bell and Tawny finds it slightly odd, considering there's really no one around to hear it. She turns and grabs two keys, handing one to Dean and one to Sam. "You'll be staying in rooms 236 and 237. Sherwin, could you show them to their rooms?"

Tawny turns to see an older man walking towards them and realizes there actually was someone around to hear the bell.

"Let me guess—" he says, looking at Tawny. "An antiquer?"

* * *

Tawny has to admit she's a bit surprised when a third man dies that night. She expected something to happen during their stay, but a death is way beyond what she could have imagined. Well, not _way_ beyond, but still. It doesn't surprise her that it's yet another person associated with the close of the inn, though. When they're done talking to Susan, she and Dean immediately go to Sam's room to talk to him about it, but Tawny knows from the distinct smell of whiskey that they aren't going to get very far into a discussion. She isn't shocked that Dean doesn't pick up on the smell; Bobby drinks so often that she's acquired a knack for picking it up, no matter how small the amount. Dean grabs the key from the door, walking into the room after Tawny and shutting the door. Sam's slumped in a chair, his glazed eyes aimed at the window.

"There's been another one," Dean says, walking over to the bed. "Some guy just hung himself in his room."

"Yeah, I saw," Sam mutters. Dean starts rummaging through the duffle he keeps his weapons in.

"We gotta figure this out and fast. What did you find out about Granny?"

"You're _bossy_."

Dean stops and turns his head to look at Sam.

"What?" he asks, unsure of Sam's statement. Tawny just stands behind the chair Sam's in, shaking her head and shrugging when Dean's eyes flick up to hers. Sam holdings his arms out, looking at Dean like it was the most obvious thing in the word

"You're bossy," he repeats, and Tawny walks around the chair and puts a hand on his shoulder and yeap… He is _wasted_. He drops his hands and looks Dean up and down. "You're _short_." And now he's giggling. This twenty- three year old, six-foot-four man-in-every-sense-of-the-word is giggling like a school girl. Dean looks back at Tawny, his eyebrows raised, and Tawny sees the moment of realization. It only takes a fraction of a second but Tawny's tuned in to Dean enough that she can see it.

"Are you _drunk_?" Dean asks, almost quietly.

"Yeah," Sam says, raising his arms again. "So? …Stupid."

Dean turns and Tawny follows his gaze, finally noticing the almost-empty whiskey bottle on the night table, then Dean turns back to Sam.

"Dude, what are you thinking?" Dean scolds, sounding uncannily like Tawny. "We're workin' a case."

Tawny watches as Sam shifts uncomfortably and notices his eyes are misty, and not just from the alcohol. Awesome. First Dean has a complete meltdown on the side of some highway and now Sam's decided to have a crisis while they're in quite possibly the creepiest inn in the US.

"That guy that hung himself – I couldn't save him."

Dean moves to speak but Tawny shakes her head. The last thing Sam needs is for Dean to go into his macho big brother mode, which he still does sometimes. Dean doesn't mean to; it's like a tick, one that usually leaves Sam a little messed up for days.

"Sammy, you couldn't have done anything," Tawny says, walking up and threading a hand through Sam's hair. He turns his face up to her, tears in his eyes. Even if Sam is drunk and has no idea what he's saying, it still hurts Tawny to see him like this.

"That's an excuse, Tawny. I should have _found_ a way to save him," he babbles. "I should have saved Ava, too."

Suddenly Tawny knows exactly what this is about, and it has nothing to do with the man who hung himself or even Ava. It's him. He wants Dean to save him. He wants _Tawny_ to save him. Suddenly Tawny's chest constricts and she drops to her knees beside Sam, the hand in his hair sliding down to cup his cheek.

"Oh, Sammy," she breathes, cursing herself for the crack of emotion in her voice. She can _not_ lose it. Not right now. "Sammy," she repeats, and thankfully her voice is smooth "You can't save everyone, sweetheart."

It's a term she saves for moments like this. She doesn't care if it bothers Dean, or makes him jealous. All she cares about it making Sam better. It's been her self-appointed job since they were five, even if Sam is the older one. But instead of soothing him it only angers him.

"No, Tawny, you don't understand, alright?" he says, slamming his hand down on the table next to him. Tawny stands, looking at him in confusion and almost-fear. She's never seen him like this.

"The more people I save, the more I can change," he continues, leaning forward. Dean moves around Tawny, staring at his brother.

"Change what?" Dean asks, and Sam leans further forward.

"My _destiny_ , Dean."

Dean looks at Tawny with an annoyed expression and she isn't positive it's completely because of Sam, and he moves to help Sam out of the chair.

"Alright, time for bed. C'mon, Sasquatch." Dean pulls Sam up by the shoulder and Tawny stands at the edge of the bed, watching them warily.

"I need you to watch out for me," Sam says.

"Yeah, I always do," Dean answers, turning him around. Sam starts to fight him a little.

"No. No, no, no. You have to _watch out_ for me… Alright?" Sam turns, unsteady on his feet, and looks at Tawny.

"You, too, Tawny," he adds, trying to look between them, but his eyes don't seem to be working properly, so he settles on talking to Dean. "And if I ever turn into something that I'm not… you have to kill me."

Tawny stops breathing. Sam hasn't mentioned what Dean said in Montana at all since it happened. The last month has gone by without that fight ever coming up, and Tawny hasn't been sure if she should try to get at least Sam to talk about it, and now she's regretting her choice not to. She can't imagine what kind of hell he's been putting himself through, and, in his own mind, what's driven him to this. She can understand somewhat how Dean feels. For the past twenty-one years Sam's been the most important thing in her life, topping Dean and even Bobby. In fact, when it comes right down to it, Dean maybe, _maybe_ , ties Sam for first priority since they've become a couple. Maybe. So, the pain of possibly losing Sam is fathomable for Tawny. But, selfishly, she's never thought about how it affects _Sam_. She's suddenly aware that he doesn't fear for his own life, and he's not asking Dean to spare him no matter what. He's asking Dean to spare _others_. The ones Sam might hurt.

Tawny's lungs start to burn and she comes to her senses, sucking in a deep breath.

"Sam," Dean sighs, looking away, but Sam insists.

"Dean, dad told you to do it. You have to," he says, grabbing Dean's shoulders. Dean stares at him for a moment.

"Yeah, well, dad's an ass," he says, and Sam looks at him in confusion. "He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that. You – you don't lay that kinda crap on your kids." Tawny's starting to think with Dean's sudden blathering she may be the only clear minded one in the room.

"No, he was right to say it," Sam defends, and Tawny's shocked. This is the one thing Sam should never excuse, but he is. "Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not dying. Tawny sure as hell isn't dying," Dean says, looking at Tawny briefly. She doesn't meet his eyes, only looks up at Sam. "And neither are you. Come on, sit down." Dean grabs a fistful of Sam's shirt, pushing him to the edge of the bed. Sam sits, still begging.

"No, please, Dean," Sam implores. "You're the only one who can do it. Promise."

"Don't ask that of me," Dean says, and she can hear the sting in his voice.

"Dean, please. You have to promise me."

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Sam almost whimpering, Dean trying not to let his poker face slip, and Dean cups either side of Sam's neck.

"I promise," he finally says.

"Thanks," Sam breaths, reaching up to press his palms to Dean's cheeks. "Thank you."

Dean is finally able to get Sam on his back and Sam looks up at Tawny pathetically, so she sinks down next to him, half laying, half sitting against the cold bars at the head of the bed. Sam rolls, burying his face in Tawny's belly, wrapping an arm around her to hold on desperately. Tawny looks at Dean, who's sitting on the other bed in the room. He doesn't look at her, only at his little brother who he might have to put a bullet hole in. Dean rubs a palm over his face and finally looks up at Tawny.

"You stayin' here?" he asks quietly, and Tawny nods.

"You know, you—" he starts, but he looks away, either too emotionally drained or too confused to start another fight. He gets up and walks to the door, and Tawny calls out when he gets to it.

"Dean?" she says tentatively, and he pauses for a minute before turning to look at her.

"Dean, I love you," she whispers, but Dean doesn't reciprocate. The words he throws at her sting like salt on an open wound.

"Are you sure about that?"

He walks out, closing the door behind him, and Tawny's left hurt and confused.

* * *

It's 1:30 when Sam finally lets Tawny move, and she somehow manages to get him out of his clothes except for his boxers and an undershirt. The last two hours have been some of the worst of her life. Dean's words hurt like hell. Tawny loves him so much more than he realizes, so much more than she's ever told him. In her defense, she's tried a couple times, but Dean has his sly ways of getting her to forget about a confession until they're lying tangled in the sheets on the brink of sleep. As Tawny kisses Sam's forehead and turns out the light she decides she'll do it Dean's way.

She makes sure the door is locked before closing it behind her and stepping across the hall to lightly knock on the door to the room she's sharing with Dean. She hears some shuffling behind it and it opens a fraction of an inch. Dean looks at her before swinging it wide, revealing he's only wearing a pair of snug black boxer-briefs, then closes it once Tawny has gotten all the way in. He doesn't speak as he turns the lock, and he doesn't even glance at her as he goes back over to the bed and climbs in. He's still upset. Good. This will work to her advantage.

She quickly strips, tossing her clothes in a pile by the desk before crossing the room. She goes to the side of the bed Dean's stretched out on and pulls back the sheet. He opens his eyes when she starts to climb in.

"Tawny, what the fuck are –"

The rest of the sentence is muffled against Tawny's palm as she straddles his waist.

"Okay, Dean," she says, glad her voice sounds so thick from drifting in and out of sleep in Sam's room. He likes it when her voice is thick and she can feel a distinct twitch between her thighs.

"I know you don't like talking," she continues, leaning a forearm against the pillow under his head so she can lean down until her bare chest is lying flat against his. His green eyes narrow and she can feel him trying to protest against her mouth, but she keeps talking. "I really don't want to talk, so we're gonna skip the whole I'm-sorry-you're-sorry-everybody's-sorry bullshit and you're going to fuck me so hard I can't walk comfortably tomorrow, understand?"

By now his eyes are wide and she can feel him half-hard pressing up into her folds through the layer of fabric between them. She grinds her hips down hard when he doesn't move and he moans against her hand, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. She leans down so her mouth is next to his ear and whispers "I asked you a question, Dean" before sucking the lobe into her mouth. She scrapes her teeth against the soft skin as she pulls away and she feels Dean nodding, his breath coming in quick, short bursts. Tawny lets her hand fall away from Dean's mouth as she moves her own to the soft skin behind Dean's ear. It's paper-thin and super sensitive, so she sucks a few bruises into it as her hand drifts down Dean's throat and chest, resting just under his right nipple. She runs the pad of her thumb over it, moaning when his hands grasp desperately at her ass.

She pulls back and peppers kisses along his stubbled jaw and left cheek, letting her lips barely brush against his before she moves to the other cheek to press more kisses along his jaw. Dean tries to turn his head and Tawny lets him, catching his lips midway with her own, and licks at the seam of his lips. He parts them and tightens his grip on her rear so much Tawny lets out a strangled moan and she's sure there will be bruises the size and shape of Dean's hand tomorrow but right now she doesn't car because he bucks his hips up into her fleshy folds, his erection full and hard and scorching hot between her legs smearing her own juices across the front of his boxers. He pulls away and rolls his hips again, this time pushing down on her hips to grind hard against her.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean gasps and Tawny leans down, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. When she lets it go with a wet _pop_ it's all puffy and bruised and Tawny can't resist leaning down to lick at it. Dean slides an arm up around her waist and rolls before dipping his head down to the crook of her neck. Tawny moans, her hands finding his hair as he smudges open mouthed, lapping kisses to her neck. When he gets down to her collar bone he sucks, exhales, and sucks again, pulling away and grinning at his mark.

"Dean," she whimpers, but he presses two fingers to her lips and shushes her, so she sucks them into all the way into her mouth and Dean moans, rolling is hips down into her wet folds. The only piece of cloth between them is soaked from Dean's sweaty skin, and suddenly Tawny's sick of the foreplay.

"Fuck me, Dean," she murmurs, pulling him down for a kiss. "Fuck me hard."

Dean wastes no time and he moves out from between Tawny's legs. She's confused at first, but when he grips her hips and tries to roll her onto her stomach, she complies.

"Get on your knees," Dean says, and the growl that might come across as predatory to others sends a jolt of pleasure between Tawny's legs. She does so and Dean grabs her hips, pushing her up to the headboard and grabbing her wrists to guide her hands to the top of it. She feels the bed move some and suddenly Dean's pressed up against her back, his chest damp with sweat, his dick leaking pre-come onto the fold between her ass and thigh. He slides an arm around Tawny's waist, pulling her out so that she's bent slightly forward, and he slips two fingers into her folds, quickly finding her pleasure-center. Dean massages the little nub with his fingers as he uses his other hand to guide his dripping head into her channel, burying himself deep. He drops his head onto the curve of her shoulder, grasping her hip with the same hand as he starts to thrust into her.

Dean picks up a quick pace, slamming into her hard enough to make the bed shake, and Tawny rolls back, meeting each one with a moan. The fingers between Tawny's legs start to rub smaller, faster circles and soon she's coming, her walls clenching hard around Dean. He thrusts hard a few more times and then he's coming, too, painting her insides with his hot seed.

"Oh, fuck, _Dean_ ," Tawny gasps, leaning her head back and pressing her forehead to the side of his throat as the tendrils of orgasm leave her quivering. Dean pulls out of her and slowly lowers them to the bed, pulling Tawny to him so he was curled behind her, one arm under her neck, the other gripping her waist. Tawny tucks her bottom arm under the pillow and laces the fingers on her other hand with Dean's.

"I really do love you, you know," Tawny says more than asks. She feels Dean shift behind her, sliding the arm under her neck out a bit to prop himself up over her. Tawny rolls on her back to look into Dean's eyes. They're gorgeous in the low light, a ring of dark mossy green around large, black pupils.

"I know," Dean whispers, dragging the knuckles of his free hand down her cheek and around her chin. He takes it between his thumb and forefinger, leaning down to kiss her softly.

"I love you, too."

Tawny looks up at him for a moment before he leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Go to sleep," he murmurs against the skin there, and he snuggles up behind her once again, and it isn't long after Tawny closes her eyes that she's asleep.

* * *

When Tawny finds out that Maggie isn't one of Susan's daughters but is, in fact, an "imaginary friend", she nearly cries. She can handle a lot of things. Vampires, werewolves, Tulpas, hell, she was even able to push past her fear of bugs and kill an Anansi in Arizona once, but two things that she didn't even pretend to like were dolls and ghosts of creepy little girls. She'd already had to face one of those fears yesterday, so learning that her second greatest fear is also present nearly sends Tawny over the edge.

"One?" Sam asks, dumbfounded.

"I though Tyler had a sister named Maggie?" Dean adds. Susan looks between the three of them.

"Maggie's imaginary."

Tawny looks at Dean and hangs her head. She just hopes she can keep it together long enough to get rid of the little bitch without running from the house screaming like a pansy.

"Where's Tyler?" Sam asks. Susan stands and leaves the room, and the three of them are running by the time they get to the stairs. Susan opens the door to their private quarters and when Tawny sees the dolls lying on the floor in pieces she knows Maggie's pissed and someone has to pay.

Susan shouts that Tyler isn't in any of the other rooms and comes out. Sam stops her.

"Susan, tell us what you know about Maggie."

"Uh, not much. Tyler's been talking about her since mom got sick," she says.

"Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?"

"Uh, no…" Susan says, looking between Sam and Dean and Tawny desperately.

"Think, think – somebody that could have lived here, might have passed away," Dean urges, and Susan looks at Tawny in horror.

"My God – my mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."

"Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?" Tawny asks.

"Yeah, she drowned in the pool."

The pool seems to be miles away but Tawny know they get there in less than a minute, and Tyler is standing on the wrong side of the railing. Susan calls out to her and Tyler turns around, but then she's gone and Tawny knows they only have a minute, maybe a minute and a half.

"Is there another entrance?" Dean asks when they realize the glass isn't going to break. Susan looks at him.

"Yeah, around back," she says, and she and Dean go to it while Sam and Tawny continue beating on the glass door. Rose had been good at protecting her family, but she'd made a vital mistake when she neglected passing on the secret of the urns.

"The urn!" Tawny yells suddenly, spinning to see an urn sitting a foot away. She pulls the dead plants out of it and pick it up, slamming it against the glass nine, ten, eleven times before it shatters and Sam pushes his way through. He's headed for the railing when Tawny yells out "No, Sam! You're too tall!" and she makes it to a run before vaulting herself over the railing.

When she hits the water its freezing and she's wrapped in plastic and her boots are heavy but she sees Tyler floating limply in the water and forgets all of that as she propels her body towards the girl. Seconds seem like hours as she glides through the water, and as soon as she has Tyler in her arms she kicks off of the floor of the pool, breaking the surface. She flips her hair out of her face in time to see Sam wading towards her.

"She's not breathing!" Tawny calls, and she hears a sob from Susan.

Sam reaches Tawny and takes Tyler from her, his long legs propelling him through the water fast than hers are, and lays her down on the wet tile. He puts a hand to her chest and gently starts pushing down and everyone is holding their breath while they wait. Finally Tyler coughs and water spews from her mouth and she takes a deep breath and Tawny can finally do the same.

"Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?"

Tyler looks around before looking back at Sam and shakes her head. "No, she's gone." Tyler buries her face in Susan's chest and Tawny looks at Sam as Susan picks up Tyler and carries her away.

"You alright, Gigantor?" Tawny asks softly. Sam looks down at her.

"You saved her life," he says monotonously, looking back to where Tyler was just lying. Guilt washes over her and she looks at Dean, remembering everything that was said last night. Sam wants to make things right before they go wrong, and Tawny just took an opportunity away from him.

"Sam," she suddenly says, turning towards him and putting a hand on his forearm. He looks at her and she takes a breath.

"Sam, you control who you are. No one else has that power. I mean, everyone has some good and some evil in them, and they get to decide which impulses to act on. You're a hero, Sam. You're my hero, and nothing you ever do will make me love you any less."

By the time she's finished she's crying and Sam has tears in his eyes. He pulls her into a bone crushing hug and Tawny looks over at Dean, whose smile tells her they're okay, _this_ is okay. After a minute, though, Dean has to open his mouth.

"Alright, this is beautiful and all, but ya'll are kinda making me wanna puke."


	10. Renegade

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x12: "Nightshifter" belong to writer Ben Edlund. The lyrics to "Renegade" belong to Styx._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tawny belongs to me._

 ** _Oh mama, I'm in fear for my life_**

 ** _From the long arm of the law  
Lawman has put an end to my running_**

 ** _And I'm so far from my home  
Oh mama, I can hear your crying _**

**_You're so scared and all alone  
Hangman is coming down from the gallows_**

 ** _And I don't have very long_**

Dean is already spread out on one of the crappy single beds when Tawny walks into the motel room. She watches for a moment as he stares at the TV and knows he isn't paying attention at all to the infomercial for some souped-up microwave. He's got his thinking face on, a face Tawny's come to know well over the years. His eyes are glazed over, the brows furrowed just enough to put that little line between them and a slight crinkle around the outside corners of his eyes, and his jaw is tense, the muscle twitching slightly as he clenches and releases. There's also a dead give-away to _what_ he's thinking about; the thumb and forefinger of his right hand are on his chest, rubbing at the pendant around his neck.

Sam.

Dean looks up when Tawny closes the door. She smiles at him, and he returns it, but Tawny can tell it's a forced smile by the way his green eyes stay flat. He turns away, looking back at the TV, so Tawny walks over to the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes before crawling up next to Dean. When he doesn't raise his arm to let her curl against his side she knows there's something wrong.

"Dean?" she murmurs hesitantly, putting a hand on his forearm. He hums, not turning away from the TV, so Tawny leans over him and grabs the remote, turning it off.

"Hey! I was watching that," he protests, leaning for the remote in her hand, but she tosses it to the other bed and perches herself on his waist, her thighs trapping his hips.

"No you weren't," Tawny says, putting her hands on his chest. "You were thinking. Hard, by the look of it. You're upset."

Dean scoffs, turning away and glaring at the wall, which totally proves Tawny's point. He doesn't speak, so Tawny continues.

"Are you seriously jealous of Sam?" she asks suddenly. They haven't talked about what happened the night Sam got drunk and Tawny knows she shouldn't push it, but after Dean's supposed acceptance of having to share Tawny with Sam, Tawny knows that him drawing away from her can only mean one thing: He lied to her, either because he's more worried about Sam's already fragile psyche and knows Tawny can take care of him or, more likely, so neither of them try to make Dean talk it out.

Dean turns his eyes to her, the green darkening with anger. "No, I'm not _jealous_ of Sam," he says, looking at a spot over her shoulder before his eyes flick back to hers.

"Unless there's something I _should_ be jealous of."

"Dean," she half whines, half warns. He raises his eyebrows and Tawny can feel an angry heat spreading through her chest. "Dean!" she says, louder this time and leans back, unable to help the glare she shoots at him.

"You don't seriously think Sam and I are doing anything behind your back," she says, putting her hands on his shoulders. When he stays silent Tawny angrily swings her leg out and moves off of his lap to kneel beside him, her knees brushing his hip.

"This is unbelievable," she mutters, putting her hand to her forehead. Dean scoffs and shifts, swinging his legs around to stand. He starts to walk away from Tawny but she stands, too.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" she yells, walking briskly over to him and grabbing his shoulder. Dean wrenches away from her, turning to look at her furiously.

"What do you want me to say, Tawny?" he asks, throwing his arms up. "That I don't like how close you and Sam are? That I _am_ jealous of him? I am! There! I've said it! I hate what you and Sam have! I've always hated it!"

His chest heaves and Tawny looks at him, confused and angry.

"What exactly do you think we have, Dean?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, you know! The way you two seem to read each other's minds! How you can tell each other anything! Sometimes I think you'd rather be with him!" Dean bellows, glaring at Tawny. His words make Tawny's chest ache. She loves Sam, sure, but Dean's always been the one she wanted.

"Dean, that's not true," she says, taking a step towards him. He backs away from her, and she can see tears in his eyes and suddenly knows how much it hurts him to see Tawny so close to another man, to see her comforting him, even if it _is_ Sam, and Tawny wants to take it all back.

"Dean, I love Sam, okay? What Sam and I have, though – it isn't even remotely romantic. Sam's always been my best friend. I – I guess it's because we have so much in common," she says, her own tears stinging her eyes. Dean looks hurt, his green eyes conveying the emotions he so often tries to hide, betraying him.

"We have stuff in common, too," Dean says, and Tawny's breath hitches in her chest at how _small_ he sounds, like a kid who's best friend ditched him for the cool new kid. He lets Tawny approach him like a wounded animal, tentatively reaching out to put a hand on his side. She flattens her palm against his ribcage, rubbing soft circles with her thumb.

"I know we do, but growing up we – you were so different from me and Sam. You were so strong. You were always so distant when we were little, to keep us from knowing what our dads were really doing, then when we were old enough you were off on hunts with them. And four years is a big difference at that age, so I guess Sam and I kind of banded together. We could share secrets and turn to each other. But he won't ever give me what you do," Tawny says softly. Dean looks away, cupping his hand over his nose to angrily wipe away a tear. Tawny reaches up, pulling his hand to her mouth to press a few kisses into the back of it.

"Dean, look at me," she softly asks, and he does without making Tawny ask again. "No one will ever replace you. Sam might be my hero, but that doesn't mean he comes before you. You mean so much to me, Dean. Can I tell you something?" she offers, and Dean nods. She takes a deep breath, trying to push down the lump in her throat.

"If it came down to it," she starts, wrapping her other hand around Dean's, holding it tightly between her palms, looking at the ring on his finger. "I know I could live without Sam. If something happens to him – don't get me wrong, it would hurt – but it wouldn't be completely unbearable. But if anything ever happened to you –" Tawny's forced to stop as a sob works its way loose, but she presses on, looking up at Dean.

"Dean, if I ever lose you it'll kill me," she manages and a tear falls down her cheek, settling in the corner of her mouth. Dean looks at her doubtfully, so she crowds into his space, pressing her chest against his, holding his hand to her throat. "I'm serious, Dean. The moment you stop breathing, so do I. I don't _want_ to live without you. 'Cause you make me whole. You're the only person who does."

The first thing Tawny feels when Dean's lips crash down onto hers is relief. It washes over her, bathing her in its calm warmth. She lets go of Dean's hand, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to pull him as close to her as possible as his hands fumble with her jeans. Desire fills Tawny's chest, desire for Dean, for the way only he can fill her, for the feeling of his skin on hers, but most of all, the desire to show him that she means what she says.

* * *

Tawny looks up from Sam's laptop when the door slams. She'd gone to the morgue earlier to see the bodies of the two apparently suicidal criminals and learned absolutely nothing, and now she was checking the email account Dean teased her about having. She tried to convince him last night that it comes in handy, but he only kissed her mouth, called her a nerd, and turned on the TV.

"Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up," Dean says. He's been staring at the various papers on the wall, occasionally sipping at a beer for the past hour or so. Tawny looks at him curiously until he continues.

"When you told that poor son of a bitch to, what did you say – 'remand' the tapes that he copied? 'Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation'? That's messed up," he says, chuckling dryly. Dean turns and sets his beer down as he sits at the table. Sam turns on the TV and looks at Dean.

"What, are you pissed at me or something?" he asks, and Tawny rolls her eyes. No matter how much she loves them, their almost constant bickering gets on her nerves sometimes. Dean leans over a blueprint of the sewer lines he had Tawny dig up at the library after she went to the morgue.

"No, I just think it's a little creepy how good of a fed you are," he replies, picking up a marker. "Come on, we could have at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here."

Tawny watches as he lays a piece of tracing paper over the blueprint and starts writing, and Sam scoffs.

" 'Man-droid'?"

Dean looks up. "Except for the man-droid part." He goes back to writing. "I liked him. He's not that different from us. People think we're crazy. Especially Tawny." He looks up at her sends her that annoyingly adorable shit-eating grin and she shoots him a look before getting off of the bed to walk behind Sam, who's turned and scolding Dean.

"Yeah, except he's not a hunter, Dean. He's just some guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing, he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark and stay alive."

Dean looks up and frowns. "Yeah, I guess."

Tawny looks at the screen and see's the evidence of what they're hunting. A shapeshifter. She's never come up against one before; her father has, and she knows Sam and Dean have. Sam finally told her what happened in St. Louis after they were arrested in Baltimore, and it made Tawny hate their kind even more. If it hadn't been for one of them, Dean wouldn't have to watch his back so closely. Sam's scoff brings her out of her thoughts.

"Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video."

"Eyes flare at the camera," Tawny murmurs, looking over at Dean.

"I hate those freaking things," Dean says, looking at the screen. Tawny walks over to him and loops her arms around his neck, hugging him from behind. He leans into her chest, humming contentedly as she puts her chin on his shoulder.

"You think I don't?" Sam accuses.

"Yeah, well one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder," Dean points out. Tawny presses a kiss to the side of his neck, smiling when he hums happily again, before pulling away to get back into the bed.

"Well, look," Sam continues "if this shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri –"

"Then Ronald's right," Dean finishes. Tawny looks between them. Sometimes she finds it a relief to just be able to sit back and watch them do all the thinking.

"Alright, they like to lair up underground, preferably the sewer. All the robberies" he holds up the paper he's been writing on and lays it over a map of the city "have been connected so far, right? Through the, uh, sewer main layout. There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main."

He looks between Sam and Tawny before standing. Tawny groans when he heads for his duffle.

"We're going tonight, aren't we?"

* * *

"Audrey Turner?"

Tawny stands, smiling at the bank clerk who is calling her over. Sam and Dean went in ten minutes ago as tech's "updating the security cameras", so Tawny had to come in under the guise of a woman just looking to open a new bank account. So she does her best to look friendly as she walks over to the woman.

"Hi, I'm Betty Worth," she introduces, holding out a hand. Tawny shakes it and is led to a desk. "So, how can I help you today?"

Tawny smiles again. "I'd just like to open a new account, please," she says, looking around. Something suddenly feels distinctly off about the situation, and Tawny wonders if Sam and Dean are in trouble.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" Betty asks, and Tawny looks at her.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," Tawny replies. Betty nods and smiles.

"I'll need a photo ID," she says. Tawny reaches into her pocket to pull out the ID she'd grabbed before leaving when she hears a scream followed by "This is _not_ a robbery!". She turns around just in time to see some guy with a massive assault rifle fire two rounds into the ceiling. For some strange reason, she assumes that _this_ is Ronald. If it is, she's going to beat the hell outta Sam for pissing him off.

Tawny obeys his demands and goes over to the counter, kneeling against it. She's shushing Betty, who's on the brink of hyperventilating, when Sam and Dean walk out.

"Hey, buddy," Dean calls, and Ronald looks over. "Why don't you calm down? Just calm down."

"What?" Ronald mutters and raises the gun, and for a split second Tawny thinks he's going to shoot Dean, but he only bellows "You!", and Tawny can see that angry-animal edge in his eyes and knows this isn't going to end well.

"Get on the floor, now!" Ronald yells, gesturing with the gun. They both kneel.

"Okay, we're doing that," Dean mutters "Just don't shoot anybody, especially us."

"I knew it – as soon as you two left," Ronald starts, and Tawny catches Dean's eyes. She smiles faintly and he winks. "You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who're you workin' for, huh? The men in black? You working for the man-droid?!"

Tawny's snort rings out through the silent building and Ronald turns, waving the gun dangerously.

"Shut up!"

He turns back to Sam and Dean and raises the gun again.

"We're not working for the man-droid!" Sam says, and Ronald snarls.

" _You_ shut up! I ain't talkin' to you! I don't like you!"

Tawny raises her eyebrows. For a second she wonders if this is the first time someone hasn't liked Sam, but she shakes it off, going back to rubbing Betty's shoulders soothingly.

"Fair enough," Sam mutters, leaning back on his heels.

Ronald orders someone to frisk them down, and before Tawny can volunteer because she _knows_ Dean has at least a knife on him, a man stands and walks over to them. He pats Sam down first, doesn't find anything, and when he moves to Dean everything seems fine until he gets to Dean's right ankle. He lifts the cuff of Dean's pants and pulls out a silver knife. He hands it to Ronald, who drops it into a trashcan.

"We know you don't wanna hurt anybody," Dean says desperately, glancing over at Tawny again. She wonders if he's actually worried about her. For some reason she's never thought about what goes through his mind on a hunt. She spends so much energy worrying about him, she doesn't really have any left to wonder if he does the same.

"But that's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around. Why don't you let these people go?"

"No!" Ronald says, and by now he looks desperate. "I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've gotta do it myself!"

"We believe you!" Dean suddenly yells, and Tawny looks at him. "That's why we're here!"

"You don't believe me! Nobody believes me! How could they?"

Dean looks back over at Tawny. They have to tell him, because if they don't, people will die. She nods enough for him to see.

"Come here," he says quietly, gesturing to Ronald. Ronald looks over at the crowd, as if he knows Dean was communicating with someone, then looks back at Dean.

"What? No!"

"You're holding the gun, boss. You're calling the shots. I just wanna tell you something, c'mere," he says, and Tawny's stomach flips. What if Ronald shoots Dean? She meant what she said in the motel. If Dean dies, so does she.

She watches as Ronald approaches them and Dean whispers something. Tawny can't make out the next few sentences exchanged, but then Dean raises his voice.

"No, no! We're runnin' outta time, okay, we gotta find him before he changes into someone else."

Ronald raises the gun again.

"Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar," he says, aiming at Dean. Dean moves to get up and Tawny suddenly can't breathe.

"I'll shoot you! Get down!" Ronald warns, and Tawny can see his finger on the trigger.

"Take me," Dean offers. "Take me as a hostage. But we gotta act fast, 'cause the longer we just sit here, the more time he has to change." Ronald readjusts the gun and Dean takes half a step forward. "Look at me, man. I believe you. You're not crazy. There really is something inside this bank."

Ronald looks at Dean for a long time before finally agreeing.

"Alright," he says, lowering the gun. "Y-you come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!"

They all stand and Tawny takes up the back, walking just in front of Sam. When they're finally in the vault she looks at Dean, frowning as he starts to close the door.

"It's okay everyone," he says, looking pointedly at Tawny. "Just stay cool."

The door closes and she hears the lock engage as a woman she recognizes as one of the bank's tellers leans over to her.

"Who is that man?" she asks, and before Tawny can answer Sam speaks.

"He's my brother."

Tawny walks over and puts a hand on his arm, rubbing it softly as he looks down at her. She can't even fake a smile.

"He is _so_ brave," the woman breathes, and it's all Tawny can do to keep from turning around and knocking the bitch's fucking teeth out.

* * *

Tawny is seriously considering beating the shit out of this Sheri chick. They've been in the vault about 20 minutes, 15 or so of it without power, and Tawny is hot, tired, scared, and sick of this dumb bimbo talking about her boyfriend like he's some sex god.

"Has your brother always been so… wonderful?" she asks Sam, laughing. Sam doesn't answer, so she continues. "I mean, staring down that gun. And the way he played right into the psycho's crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear? I mean, he's a real- " she chuckles, and Tawny walks up to her "hero or something."

Tawny grabs her shoulder, spinning her around and slamming her back into the wall. She ignores Sam's look of surprise and presses her forearm into Sheri's neck, putting just enough pressure to let her know Tawny means business.

"Shut the _fuck_ up! Did it ever cross your mind that someone here might think of him as more than some glorified _blow-up doll_? Did it even make it into your little fucking brain that he might have a _girlfriend_? He's out there, risking his god damned life, and you're in here practically asking how big his dick is. So just shut the fuck _up_!"

Sam grabs Tawny's waist and pulls her away and Sheri gasps for breath.

"You crazy bitch!" she manages, but before she can do anything the door opens and she sees Dean standing there.

"Oh, my God! You saved us! You saved us!" she enthuses, but then she sees the gun in his hand.

"Actually," he replies, "I just found a few more." He starts waving people in, and Tawny can't help but smirk at the look on Sheri's face.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but Dean ignores her.

"Sam, Tawny, uh, Ronald and I need to talk to you," he says, looking at them instead. Tawny walks over to him and he kisses her temple, like he planned on showing Sheri who he belongs to. Tawny looks at her and shrugs, smirking before Dean closes the door.

Dean and Ronald lead them out to the lobby before Dean explains anything.

"It shed its skin again," he says, looking at Tawny. "We don't know when. It could be in the halls, the vault.

"Great," Tawny mutters, leaning against the counter. She looks over at Sam, who in turn looks at Dean.

"You know, Dean, you _are_ wanted by the police. Tawny, too," he points out, and Tawny's stomach drops.

"Yeah," Dean says, rubbing his chin.

"So, even if we do find this damn thing, how the hell are we gonna get out of here?"

"One problem at a time," Dean says, walking over to Tawny. "Tawny and I are gonna do a sweep of the whole place, see if we can find any stragglers. Once we get everyone together then we gotta play a little game of 'Find the Freak'." He pulls a silver letter-opener out and hands it to Sam. "Here, I found another one of these things for you. Stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody. Help him manage the –"

But Sam cuts him off.

"Help him manage?" he says loudly, and Tawny looks up at him. "Are you insane?"

Dean looks at Sam for a moment before turning to Ronald and shooting him a double thumbs-up.

"Look, Sam," Tawny whispers, smiling at Ronald, who looks thoroughly confused. "I know this isn't going the way we wanted –"

"Understatement," Sam yells, and Tawny shoots him a glare.

" _But_ ," she continues, taking a step towards him "if we invite the cops in right now, Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested, and the damn shifter gets away. Probably never find it again, okay –"

Sam raises his eyebrows and gestures to Ronald, whose standing right smack in the center of the beam of a spotlight.

"Ronald! Get outta the light!" she hisses, and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Seriously?" Sam asks, and Tawny sighs, shifting her weight.

"Okay, Ron's game plan was a bad plan," Dean interjects "It was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now crazy's the only game in town, okay?"

He grabs Tawny's hand and without another word he pulls her out of the lobby.

* * *

When Tawny first hears the gunshot she thinks its Dean that's been shot. He pulls her down behind a counter, shielding her body with his, and her hand immediately go to his chest, checking for bullet holes. She pulls at his shirt, not seeing any blood, and he looks down at her like he knows what she's doing.

"It was Ron," he says, but Tawny isn't reassured. It could have so easily been Dean. She knows that they wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through his perfect chest, and that scares the hell out of Tawny. He lets her touch, though, triple checking for blood, tears in his shirt, any sign of an injury. When she still doesn't find any he raises a hand to cup her cheek, presses a kiss roughly onto her hairline, and nods towards a longer counter. They shuffle over to it and Sam quickly joins them, looking between Dean and Tawny. He reaches down and pulls the key to what Tawny assumes is the lock on the front door and hands it to Dean.

"Take care of the guard," he says, and Tawny looks between the key and Sam's face. "I'm going after the shifter."

Before either Dean or Tawny can protest he crouches and runs off. Dean hands her the guards revolver and turns, letting her grab at the back of his jeans. They move behind another counter in unison, Dean looking at Ronald's gun before shifting his gaze to the body lying a few feet away. She looks warily at the red dot moving over his body, knowing that there's still a sniper ready to open fire at the first sign of movement.

"Sorry, Ron," Dean mutters, and Tawny can't help the momentary sting of emotion in her chest. He was just doing the right thing, something Tawny would probably have done if she didn't know what she did. "You did a real good job tracking this thing, you really did." He grabs the rifle and looks at Tawny, nodding towards the entrance to the bank. She nods, letting him know she's good, and they move towards it.

They grab the guard at the foot of the stairs, Tawny muttering reassurances as they slowly walked him up, but her finger never leaves the trigger of the gun in her hand. When they make it to the door the three of them are bathed in the flutter blue and red lights of two dozen patrol cars waiting outside. Dean opens the door, pushing the guard out in front of them, and Tawny hears Dean shout for them to get back, but all Tawny can focus on are the seven or eight lasers pointing in Dean's general direction.

He finally gets back inside and relocks the door, and Tawny's hand subconsciously goes to his back, gripping his shirt tightly. "We are so screwed," he mutters, and for the first time tonight Tawny couldn't agree more.

* * *

Tawny knows it's a mistake the moment she picks up the phone.

"Yeah," she says, looking at Dean. He raises his eyebrows and she shrugs.

"This is Special Agent Victor Hendrickson."

Tawny rolls her eyes. Great. The FBI.

"Listen, we're not really in a negotiating kind of mood, so, do me a favor, and don't call back," she says. She's about to hang up when she hears her name. She raises the phone back to her ear, an icy bolt of fear shooting through her stomach.

"What did you say?" she asks, looking at Dean, her eyes wide.

"I know who you are, Tawny, and I know Dean's in there with you. Now, give him the phone," Agent Hendrickson says. Tawny swallows.

"Why should I do that?" she asks, looking away from Dean. She hears a chuckle on the other end, and she knows it isn't from amusement.

"You're good at protecting your own, Tawny. But, tell me, how can you protect your father if you're running around the country with your boyfriend?"

Her father. This smug bastard was going after her father.

"Fine," she snaps, holding the phone out to Dean. "It's for you."

He looks at it for a moment, almost as if he expects it to bite, before finally taking it.

"Yeah?" he asks. There's a pause where Tawny can't quite make out what's being said.

"Whoa, that's kinda hard for a federal agent, don't you think?" Dean says, then Tawny can hear Agent Hendrickson speaking. She doesn't need to know what he's saying by watching Dean's face.

"Yeah, well, that part's true, but I think she's prettier than Bonnie, don't you? How'd you even know we were here?" There's another long pause where Dean holds Tawny's gaze, and when Dean starts speaking again she feels her heart drop.

"You don't know crap about my dad," Dean says, his mouth turning down. Tawny walks over and puts a hand on his hip, slipping her first two fingers into his pocket. She can hear Agent Hendrickson clearer now that she's closer, and knows he's talking about John. She suddenly hates him. She hears him call John a wacko and anger turns her stomach.

"You got no right talking about my dad like that," Dean says, and Tawny tugs him closer. "He was a hero."

She distinctly hears Hendrickson give them one hour and then a click. Dean raises the phone angrily before slamming it back down, turning to Tawny. She knows words won't do jack-shit so she leans up and wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him. He embraces her back, rubbing soft circles into it with his palm as he buries his face in her hair. He kisses her neck and takes a deep breath, and she lets him hold on as long as he needs to, if only because she knows he needs an anchor right now. And maybe because she needs him to hold her, too. She hears Sam walk in and Dean pulls away.

"Hey," he says, grabbing the rifle off of the table. "We got a bit of a problem outside." The worried look Tawny's expecting doesn't come, and Sam chuckles.

"We got a problem in _here_ ," he says, pointing to the vault door. Tawny grabs the revolver and walks over to Sam, tucking the gun into the back of her jeans and pulling her jacket over it as she gets to him.

"Who is it?" she asks, and Sam gives her a tense smirk.

"Your B.F.F. Sheri," he responds, and the satisfaction Tawny feels infuriates her. She shouldn't be happy that an innocent person is dead, no matter how much she'd lusted after Dean. Just the thought of it sickens her.

Dean opens the vault door and she can see 'Sheri' standing just inside.

"Sheri? We're gonna let you go," Dean says, and she looks at him.

"What?" she asks, confused. "Why me?"

"Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds. C'mon," Dean replies, but 'Sheri' catches a glimpse of Tawny standing behind him and backs off.

"Uh… I think I'd rather stay here with the others," she says, and Tawny steps forward.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to insist," Tawny says, walking towards her. She pulls out the revolver out and lets it hang loosely by her side, knowing it won't do much good other than to help the shifter keep its cover. It works, though, because 'Sheri' walks towards them and out of the vault. Once the door is closed Tawny grabs her arm roughly, pulling her through the halls behind Sam, whose leading them towards the body. Once they get to the small office Tawny shoves her in, letting her see the body in full.

The shriek that 'Sheri' lets out almost throws Tawny off guard, but she knows that, when faced with imminent death, everything will make a last ditch effort to avoid it.

"What is that, community theater? Or are you just naturally that good?" Dean asks, and Tawny grins. Sam grabs her arm, raising the silver letter opener.

"This is the last time you become anybody, ever," he says, and 'Sheri' manages to pull away. She lets out one last strangled sob, then faints.

"Uh… okay," Tawny says, looking between the two Sheri's, thoroughly confused. She's wondering why the shifter would pretend to faint, making itself vulnerable to attack. I mean, it just pretty much laid down to die. Dean is kneeling over vault-Sheri, about to stab her, when Tawny stops him.

"Dean, wait," she says, and he turns to look up at Tawny. "What's the advantage of this plan? I mean, fainting now wouldn't help it survive."

Dean turns and looks at dead-Sheri before looking back up at Tawny.

"Oh," he replies simply. He looks between the two Sheris one more time before crawling over to dead-Sheri. A loud crash distracts them, and Tawny knows the SWAT team has just made an entrance. Unfortunately, this gives dead-Sheri time to reach up and grab Dean's throat, revealing itself to be the shifter. Tawny runs towards Dean but the shifter kicks her feet out from under her, sending Tawny crashing to the ground. Her head clips the table next to the door, making the room spin. Real Sheri screams and grabs at Sam, whose face is suddenly split into two as Tawny looks at him.

"Get her outta here!" she hears Dean yell, and Sam does so, pulling Sheri out of the room as Dean receives a kick to the side. He topples down next to Tawny and the shifter takes the opportunity to bolt out of the room. Dean looks down, pulling Tawny up to a sitting position. "You okay, baby?" he asks, lifting a hand to the knot growing on the back of her head. She closes her eyes for a minute and when she opens them the spinning of the room is down to a slight swaying.

"Uh-huh," she mumbles, and Dean pulls her to her feet. By the time they make it to the basement the room is no longer moving, but there's a distinct throbbing behind Tawny's eyes. They're almost spotted by to SWAT members, but Dean pulls Tawny into the shadows just in time. When the SWAT members walk off Dean and Tawny continue to look for the shifter. Tawny can feel her pulse in her head and she pauses, closing her eyes as the room tilts dramatically. When she opens her eyes again, Dean is looking at her and the shifter is right behind him. He must see the look in her eyes because he turns, and the shifter plants the heel of its hand into his nose. Tawny doesn't hear the distinctive _crack_ , so she knows his nose isn't broken, but he stumbles back.

Tawny makes a move towards the shifter, but it grabs one of her shoulders, spinning her around and shoving her into a wall. Her head slams into it, this time in the same spot Gordon Walker had hit her, and she crumples to the ground, her vision going in and out. She can hear the muffled sound of Dean and the shifter fighting, and her eyes drift closed for a moment. Suddenly someone's shifting her body, kneeling above her, and she opens her eyes to see Dean's only about an inch away. She jumps, her vision slowly clearing, and he grabs her wrists to keep her from springing to her feet.

"Hey! Hey, baby, it's just me," he reassures, letting go of her wrists to raise his hands to cup her cheeks. He turns her head gently, looking at what's sure to be a quickly blooming bruise on her forehead. When he finally looks back in her eyes she can see his tears.

"God dammit, Tawny," he breathes, his voice thick. She leans in and kisses him, feeling his lips quivering against hers.

"Oh, baby," she manages, lifting a hand to run her fingers across his stubbled jaw. "I'm okay. It's just, with all these whacks to the head… I'm as dumb as you, now."

* * *

Tawny's not sure how she manages to climb the stairs to the parking garage between the SWAT uniform and her pounding head, but she does. She's pretty sure that Sam found the largest three men possible to steal uniforms from. She nearly cried when Dean told her she would have to leave her favorite pair of boots behind. She'd had them for almost ten years, and they were so perfectly broken in she felt like they were just an extension of her body.

The three of them finally get to the floor the Impala's on and slow to an almost leisurely walk, so Tawny takes the opportunity to gently pull off the helmet and protective goggles. The pressure in her head immediately dissipates and she breathes a sigh of relief as she pushes up the mask, letting the cool air refresh her skin. Neither of the boys removes anything until they're all in the car, Tawny even more squished than usual from all of the equipment they were wearing. Both of them remove their helmets, tossing them at Tawny's feet before pushing up their own masks.

"We are so screwed," Dean mutters, turning on the car. None of them speak again until they're near Clinton. Dean pulls off of I-43 and finds a heavily wooded area, where he pulls off to the side of the road and turns the car off.

"Change quickly," he says, getting out. Tawny climbs out after him, following him around to put the gun she's had in her lap for nearly an hour carefully in next to his before circling around to the back door to rifle through her duffle. She finds a pair of jeans and closes it, grabbing at Dean's bag to dig out a pair for him, and two shirts. Tawny's silent until she and Dean are in a small clearing a few yards back from the road. She gets the uniform off and turns to watch as Dean takes his shirt off, revealing a large purpled bruise on the right side of his ribcage.

"Oh, baby," she breathes, walking over to him. He lifts his arm and looks down at the bruise, shrugging like it's just a mosquito bite. She softly presses her fingers to it, feeling the tell-tale lump of a broken rib before he hisses and pulls away.

"Sorry," she mutters, turning to pull on her jeans and the shirt she took from him. She inhales deeply and his scent automatically soothes her. By the time they get back to the car, Sam's waiting impatiently against the hood. He practically springs up, glaring at Dean and Tawny as they get closer to the car.

"What the hell took you so long?" he demands and Dean sighs, throwing the SWAT uniforms into the back seat through the open window.

"God, calm down, Sasquatch. Don't get your panties in a bunch," he says, holding the door open for Tawny. She slides in, followed closely by Dean, who starts the car and gets back on the highway. A few minutes of silence passes, and Tawny's head starts to throb again, so she leans her head back. She's barely closed her eyes when she feels a hand on her knee, and when she looks up Dean glances at her.

"Here," he offers quietly, and he extends his arm, letting her scoot into his side. She lays her head on his shoulder and almost immediately drifts off to sleep.


	11. Angels Among Us

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x13: "Houses of the Holy" belong to writer Sera Gamble. The lyrics to "Angels Among Us" belong to Alabama, Don Goodman, and Becky Hobbs._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tawny belongs to me._

 ** _Oh I believe there are angels among us  
Sent down to us from somewhere up above  
They come to you and me in our darkest hours  
To show us how to live  
To teach us how to give  
To guide us with a light of love_**

When Tawny wakes up she's alone in the car. She looks around and sees Sam and Dean standing by the trunk, and faintly hears Dean say something to Sam about separate rooms before walking off towards the office of the motel she's just realized they're parked in front of. Sam goes back to whatever he's doing in the trunk, so Tawny takes the opportunity to assess the full extent of her injuries without Dean or, worse, Sam, looking over her shoulder, eyes wide with sadness.

Tawny slides over to the driver's side and flips down the sun visor to look at the bump to her head. She sees it's not nearly as bad as she'd thought, just a small, angry red mark that's starting to fade. Suddenly another bolt of pain shoots through it, as if it's reminding her that she was thrown against a wall, dammit, and this is supposed to hurt. She raises a hand to it and hisses. Before she has time to reach around into the back seat she hears the trunk close and Sam stomps his way around to the passenger's door and slides in with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring out the window. Tawny snaps the visor shut and slides over to him, bumping her knee against his playfully.

"What's wrong, Jolly Green?" she asks, and Sam shrugs but doesn't answer. She shoves at him with her shoulder.

"C'mon, Sammy. What, are you trying to shoot lasers out of your eyes at that trashcan? 'Cause I think you're actually pretty close," she jests, and Sam turns his glare to her.

"Oh, God!" she mock-yells, shielding her face. "Not the laser eyes!"

When Tawny looks back at Sam his mouth is turned up at one corner, and she's glad that whatever's bothering him isn't so bad that a little humor won't put that lopsided grin back on his mouth.

"Aw, that's my Sammy," Tawny says, reaching a hand up to cup his chin lovingly. The moment's over when she hears Dean approaching, and she watches him innocently as he climbs into the car. He tosses a key into her lap, then another over to Sam.

"Got you a room next to ours," he mumbles, barely glancing at Sam. He starts the car and pulls around to the back of the building where Tawny can see a row of doors. He pulls in front of 14 and stops, getting out and holding the door open for Tawny. She opens the back door and grabs for her duffle, but Dean puts a hand on her back.

"I got it, babe," he says, and she stands to look at him. She stares for a moment, trying to decipher the look on his face, and he tries to hide it. She finds that she can't quite place it, so she steps out of the way, letting Dean grab both of their bags. Dean quickly goes to the trunk, grabbing his green duffle and Tawny can hear the clink of the weapons he's put in it.

"Don't bug us 'til after eight," he tosses over the car to Sam as he closes the trunk, and Tawny can see Sam clenching his jaw, but he nods and stalks up to the door of his room. Tawny walks up to the room she and Dean are sharing and opens the door, tossing the keys on the small table next to it. It's a little nicer than she expected, but not by much. The wallpaper isn't peeling, but the sickly orange shade is a little off-putting. The furniture seems to be in fairly good condition, there are no unidentified stains on the carpet, and when Tawny sits down on the bed it's surprisingly soft and full.

"Nice room," she says nonchalantly, reaching down to pull off the spare pair of boots she'd dug out from behind the front seat of the Impala. She sighs when she gets the first one off, curling her toes. These boots aren't nearly as comfortable as her others were. She gets the other off and flexes that foot, looking up at Dean. He's standing by the window, staring at the closed curtains, and she can tell from across the room that his shoulders are tensed.

"Hey," she says, standing and walking over to him. She puts a hand between his shoulder blades and grabs at his upper arm, pulling him around to face her. His eyes turn down, looking at a spot somewhere around her shoulder.

"What's wrong? Hey, look at me."

It takes Tawny reaching up and touching his cheek to get him to look at her, and in a moment he's pressed up against her. The kiss is fast and brutal; a hot, wet slide of lips and tongues dancing over each other. Dean's hands are grasping at the shirt she was wearing, _his_ shirt, quickly undoing the buttons and shoving it over her shoulders. Dean's teeth smack against hers and she draws in a sharp breath, pleasurepain shooting straight through her. She moans when his hands find hers and he laces their fingers, pushing her towards the bed.

When the backs of her knees hit it he pushes her down, kneeling in the v of her legs, and he pulls away. She looks at him, taking in how damn _beautiful_ he looks with his puffy, slightly parted spit-slicked lips, flushed cheeks, and wide, lust-filled eyes. There's only a thin ring of green around his blown pupils. He stares back at her, reaching up to undo the clasp of her bra and pull it off of her shoulders.

He leans down and kisses along her collar bone and diagonally down her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth. Tawny arches into his touch, almost overloaded by the hands wandering over her back combined with the tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. She moans as he sucks hard, and her fingers find the back of his head, doing their best to grip the short hair. When her fingers are unable to find purchase she settles for clinging to the back of his neck, gently massaging. He lets the hardened flesh slip out of his mouth, sliding one hand around from her back to roll it between his thumb and forefinger as his mouth presses open-mouthed kisses across the valley between her breasts, finally taking its twin into his mouth. He presses the flat of his tongue to it, and Tawny leans her head back, sliding her still socked feet around to rest on the backs of his calves.

Dean's never actually taken the time to have this kind of sex before. Usually they only have time for a quickie before Sam or Bobby gets back and catches them. Tawny makes a mental note to try to talk Sam into letting them have their own room more often.

Dean bites down on the puckered nerve bundle in his mouth and Tawny forgets about Sam with a gasp. Dean pulls away, softly blowing on the spit-slicked flesh, smiling faintly as it tightens at the blast of ice-cold air. Tawny brings her hands up to grasp his jaw, leaning down to press her mouth to his. His lips part with the obvious intention of probing her mouth with his tongue but she beats him to the punch, sliding her own tongue over his top teeth before pressing it against his. She feels him reach down and slide his arms under her, lifting her up. He propels her backwards, keeping his mouth attached to hers, until she's on her back and he's kneeling over her, his knees trapping her hips.

He pulls away and she sighs, missing the press of his lips to hers. He sits up and pulls off his shirt, and Tawny's fingers are at the button of his jeans before he can even get the garment completely off. She tugs it open, then pushes the zipper down, clawing lightly at the golden hairs leading into his boxer briefs, the other pushing against the hard, hot erection trapped inside a cloth prison. He bucks his hips into her hand, hissing at the pressure.

"So fucking good, baby," he murmurs, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her mouth before scooting down until his hands are at the waistband of her jeans. He quickly gets them undone, tugging them down along with her panties. He tosses them across the room and pulls off her socks before shoving his own jeans and boxer briefs down, his dripping cock springing from its confines obscenely.

"Dean," Tawny whines, and Dean shushes her, slowly sliding his palms up her legs, leaving trails of fire tingling in their wake. He turns his palms in when he gets to her thighs, pushing them apart. She can't help the blush that creeps up her face when he stares between them, a look of hunger in his eyes. Dean doesn't notice, doesn't even look up, just bends and licks a hot stripe between her wet lips. She lets out a strangled moan and damn-near passes out from the sudden contact. He wraps his lips around the small bundle of nerves that sits at the top like a keystone, sucking sharply and Tawny's hands fly to hold his head. She doesn't try to guide him or push him deeper, just holds on as the tip of his tongue flicks across it.

" _Fuck_ , Dean, so good," she babbles, tossing her head. He hums and the vibrations sent straight through the sensitive tissue make Tawny arch her back and let out a sharp mewling sound. She's vaguely aware that her nails are digging into his scalp enough that it's probably very painful, but she can't seem to let go. He slips two fingers into her, curling them to scrape against the top of her walls, quickly finding the small knot of spongy tissue he's looking for and he presses up on it. Tawny cries out and arches her back again, feeling a spurt of liquid as it leaves her body. Dean laps it up and Tawny shudders at the contact to the over-stimulated flesh.

"Dean," she whines, and he looks up at her. She feels her muscles spasm weakly when she sees her own juices dripping off of his chin. "Fuck me, Dean," she whispers. He doesn't have to be told twice.

Dean places a kiss on each of her thighs before rising to his knees. He grabs one of her calves, drawing her leg up over his shoulder and sliding into her in one fluid motion. He rolls his hips, thrusting into her hard and fast and purposefully, like he's trying to impale her on the rock-hard organ. It doesn't take Tawny long to come again, and she cries out loud enough that Sam probably hears her in the next room.

Dean lets Tawny's leg slip down to his hip and leans forward on his forearms, bracketing her head. His fingers tangle in her hair, tilting her head to the right angle so he can kiss her, his tongue licking at the inside of her mouth and she can taste herself, salty and sweet mingled in with the spicy earthiness that is completely _Dean_. She can feel him grunt lightly as he ruts into her with enough force to make the headboard slam into the wall in time with his thrusts.

"Fuck, Tawny, m'gonna –" he full out whimpers, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. His thrusts become more erratic and his grip tightens on her hair as his teeth close around the tendon she knows is standing out on her neck, and the pleasure-pain shoots straight between her legs and they come at the same time, Tawny's walls fluttering and clenching around him as he paints her channel with slick, hot come.

He collapses on her, his body slippery with sweat, and he breathes hot, ragged breaths over Tawny's throat. He thrusts his hips weakly a few more times, and Tawny knows his softening dick leaks out another bit of come. His breathing finally starts to even out and he lifts his head, kissing Tawny's mouth a few times as he pulls out of her. She shivers and Dean tenses above her, pulling back to look at her, his liquid-emerald eyes filled with concern.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Dean asks, his voice shaky but determined. Tawny reaches up and flattens her palm against his sweaty forehead, pushing back his hair as she shakes her head.

"No, baby," she whispers, smiling and pushing up to press a kiss to his reddened lips. They're hot against her mouth. When she pulls away he's still staring down at her, like he's wondering if she's lying.

"Dean, I promise, you didn't hurt me. It – That was fucking amazing, actually," she says, chuckling softly. His eyes flicker across her face for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Why'd you make that face when I pulled out, then?" he presses, brushing a sweaty piece of hair off of her forehead. She smiles faintly at him. Dean always doubts himself at the strangest, most ridiculous times. Tawny shrugs.

"I just don't like it when you're not in me anymore. Makes me feel… empty, I guess," she mutters, suddenly unable to look him in the eye as she blushes, but she doesn't need to see his face to know he's smirking. He doesn't say anything, though, just shakes his head and rolls off of her. She rolls on her side and props her head up on one hand, watching as he walks to the bathroom. Her eyes drift down from his lightly freckled shoulders, drifting over his sculpted back to the two porcelain globes of his ass. The tight muscles ripple under smooth skin and she has to swallow back a moan.

"Are you starin' at my ass again?" he asks, turning, and she wonders if she was staring so hard he could feel it.

"Mmhmm," she hums happily, grinning at him. He smirks and turns back around, leaning against the doorframe as he shifts his weight to one foot, jutting one hip out.

"How do I look?" he tosses over his shoulder, turning his head to look at her awkwardly. She rolls her eyes.

"Like you could be the next Playboy bunny."

Dean grins and turns, blowing her a kiss and she has to roll over onto her stomach and bury her face in the comforter to suppress the giggles that overtake her. She laughs into the bed for a minute or so, and when she looks up Dean isn't in the doorway anymore and she can hear the bath running. She hears some shuffling before Dean pokes his head out, his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.

"You comin', you little sphinx?" he asks. Tawny jumps out of the bed and practically runs to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kisses him. His arms go around her waist and he pulls her to him, letting his tongue swirl lazily into her mouth. He pulls away after a moment and tucks a strand of hair behind Tawny's ear. He looks into her eyes and opens his mouth like he wants to say something important, but closes it a second later, shaking his head slightly.

"You okay, baby?" Tawny asks, concerned. She hates that he feels he needs to keep secrets from her. He nods, then slaps his palms against her rear, squeezing them as he pulls her impossibly closer.

"You ready for round two?" he enthuses, and before Tawny can answer he pulls her to the tub.

* * *

Tawny's in the bathroom when she hears the door to the motel room open and close. She turns off the sink faucet and grabs the thin hand towel next to it, drying her hands as she hears Sam's voice. Dean answers back and she listens to them for a minute. She tosses the towel back down onto the counter and steps out of the bathroom in time for Dean to complain about being stuck in the motel while Sam gets to go out and do some digging for the case Bobby alerted them to.

"Hey, you were the bank robber on the 11:00 news, not me. We can't risk you just walking into a government facility," Sam says, and Tawny leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms over her chest. Dean rolls his eyes from the bed he's sprawled out on, the vibrations from the 'Magic Fingers' making his body shake. He only hums in response and Sam waves his hand at him before turning and heading towards the bathroom. He brushes past Tawny and leans over the sink as she hears the chime of the bed, telling Dean he needs to feed it another quarter.

"Aw, dammit. That was my last quarter," he groans, looking over at the night table and pulling his headphones out. He sits up and scoots to the end of the bed, looking at Tawny.

"Hey, babe, you got any quarters?" he asks desperately. Tawny rolls her eyes.

"Not for you, perv," she says, turning to brace her back against the doorframe. She lifts a hand, picking at the nail of her index finger.

"What about you, Sam? Got any quarters?" he practically begs.

"No," Sam answers sternly, scrubbing at his hands. Dean saunters over to the doorway, resting his forearm next to Tawny's head.

"So, did you get in to see that crazy hooker?" he asks as smoothly as ever. He grabs Tawny's hand, pressing the back of it into his palm as he laces his fingers with hers from behind, and rests their joined hands on her belly.

"Yeah," Sam answers, turning off the tap and grabbing the bunched up hand towel "Gloria Sitnik. And I'm not so sure she's crazy."

Dean glances at Tawny, confused. "But she seriously believes that she was…" he frowns "touched by an angel?"

"Yeah," Sam answers, scoffing. Tawny can tell it isn't because of anything Gloria Sitnik said. "Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works. I mean, she's living in a locked ward, and she's totally at peace."

"Oh, yeah, you're right – sounds completely sane," Dean says, smirking down at Tawny. She raises her eyebrows in disapproval. "What about the dude she stabbed?" He looks at Sam expectantly.

"Uh, Carl Gulley. Said she killed him 'cause he was evil."

"Was he?"

"I don't know. I mean, I couldn't find any dirt on him. He didn't have a criminal record, he worked at the campus library, had lots of friends, was a churchgoer."

Sam walks forward and Dean drops Tawny's hand as Sam slips between them. Dean hums as he turns.

"So, Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko?" he asks, following his brother, who's shrugging off his jacket. Tawny walks over to the foot of the closest bed and sits, curling on leg under her.

"I mean," Dean continues, scoffing "she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion, know what I mean?"

"No," Sam agrees turning to him. "But she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to. Little bit odd, don't you think?" Dean looks at Tawny, who shrugs.

"Odd – yeah. Supernatural – maybe. But angels – I don't think so."

"Why not?" Sam asks.

"'Cause there's no such thing, Sam," Dean replies, sounding like Sam asked if the Easter Bunny is real. Tawny stands, interjecting before Sam can speak.

"Dean, there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted," she points out. It's true; at least a third of her father's books are about angels, and most of them are the thickest books he owns.

"You know what, there's a ton of lore on unicorns, too," Dean retorts. "In fact, I hear they – they ride on silver moonbeams and they shoot rainbows outta their ass."

Tawny looks at him, her eyes narrowing, but what Sam says almost makes her laugh.

"Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?"

He stares up at Dean pathetically through his long eyelashes and Tawny can't help the grin that comes to her lips. But then Dean has to go and ruin it.

"I'm just saying, there's some legends that you just – you file under 'bull crap'."

He sits down in a chair and flips open some car magazine and Tawny stares at him.

"And you've got angels on the 'bull crap' list?" she asks, and he doesn't even look at her.

"Yep."

"Why?" she asks, stepping closer to him. He pauses and looks up at her, a ridiculously innocent look on his face.

"Because I've never seen one."

"So _what_?" she replies, rolling her eyes at him. Sometimes she can't believe he's a hunter.

"So I believe in what I can see," he replies, and Tawny gets the feeling that she's lost some of his respect. She hopes she's wrong.

"Dean, the three of us have seen things most people couldn't even _dream_ about."

"Exactly," he says, setting down the magazine and leaning forward, sheer determination on his face. "With our own eyes – that's hard proof, okay? But in all this time, I have never seen anything that looks like an angel, and don't you think that if they existed we would have crossed paths with them or at least know someone that crossed paths with them? No. This is a – a demon or a spirit. You know, they find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms."

By the time Dean's finished, Tawny's face is flushed and angry tears sting her eyes. She can't even bring herself to speak, and luckily Sam cuts in.

"Maybe," he says. Dean looks away from Tawny's glare and fixes his gaze on Sam.

"Can we just – I'm going stir-crazy, man. Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?"

Sam scoffs as Dean walks to the bed Tawny's sharing with him and sits down across from him.

"I was just there. Nothing. No sulfer, no EMF."

Dean knits his eyebrows, looking in Tawny's direction.

"You didn't see any fluffy, white wing feathers?"

Tawny hardens her glare. With all of Dean's unlimited abilities, the greatest is his ability to be the world's biggest ass. Sam scoffs.

" _But_ ," he continues, looking away "Gloria did say the angel gave her a sign… right beside Carl Gulley's doorway."

"Could be something at his house. It's worth checkin' out," Dean says hopefully. Sam nods and stands.

"Gimme two minutes," he mumbles, walking towards the bathroom. Tawny follows him with her eyes until the door is closed. She glares sullenly at the wall next to it, avoiding Dean's gaze as he walks towards her.

"Look, Tawny, I'm sorry for disagreeing with you –" he starts, but Tawny raises a hand.

"Don't, Dean," she warns, but he walks up to her, wrapping his hand around her wrist loosely to gently pull her towards him.

"Don't what? Don't tell you you're wrong? Tawny, there are no such things as angels, there's no God. Hell, I'm not even sure there's a _heaven_."

She finally meets his eyes, pulling her hand roughly from his grasp.

"You don't get it, do you?" she spits, pushing at his chest as she passes him, spinning to look at him when she's across the room. "If there's no God, how come exorcisms work, huh?"

He looks at her dumbfounded, so she continues, the words spilling out before she can stop them.

"The Rite of Exorcism invokes the power of _God_ , Dean. Have you ever actually thought about what the words mean? When you exorcise a demon, you don't suddenly have the power to send it back to hell. You ask for God to do it, and he does. God-damn it, Dean. God is _real._ Heaven – heaven is real!"

He stares at her like he knows damn-well that this has absolutely nothing to do with demons, at least not the kind from hell. She presses the back of her hand against her mouth, looking away from him as she tries to keep from sobbing. She sinks down onto the bed, dropping her face. When she was little she thought her mother had become an angel, at least that's what Bobby told her. He said mommy was watching over her, and would always take care of her, and she believed it. Even after she found out angels weren't spirits of dead loved ones, but altogether independent creations of God, she forced herself to believe her mother was waiting for her and that Tawny would get to see her one day. For Dean, the man she loves more than anything and wants to share her whole self with, to say none of it was real crushed her. Completely, undeniably crushed her.

Tawny has her eyes forced shut and her hand still pressed brutally into her mouth when she feels the bed beside her dip. She can sense the heat radiating off of Dean's body before she actually feels him pressed against her side, but when she does she leans away from him. Dean pulls her hand away from her lips and she can taste blood.

"I'm sorry, Tawny," he murmurs against her forehead, pressing a few kisses to it. Tawny's afraid for a moment he's going to pull a Sam and try to push her into talking, but he doesn't. He just sits with her, softly running his fingers through her hair during the minute or so it takes her to compose herself. When she finally looks up only a few tears have leaked out, ones Dean immediately brushes the pads of his thumbs over in an effort to get rid of them. All he really succeeds in doing is smearing them around a little, but the kiss he presses to her lips makes up for it.

"I really am sorry, baby," he whispers, pressing his forehead against hers. She nods, and he continues.

"Look, it's hard for me to believe in something I've never seen, something with no tangible evidence. I guess my brain can't – with all the stuff I've seen, creatures I've come up against, it isn't big enough to try to even imagine there's more out there that I _haven't_ seen. But if you believe, I'll try to."

Tawny looks up and is almost blown away by the honesty in his eyes. There were so many times as a kid that he would say stuff like that to her, but she knew it was just to get her to calm down after a particularly bad nightmare. Right now, though, he was telling the honest-to-God truth, pardon the pun.

"Thank you," she says, leaning forward to press another kiss to his mouth. She hears the bathroom door open and footsteps as Sam walks out, then a heavy sigh.

"Can't I even go to the _bathroom_ without you guys getting boners?" he asks. When Tawny looks up he's standing by the open door with a look of disgust on his face. Tawny offers him a lopsided grin and he rolls his eyes.

"Can we please go now?" he asks, and Dean stands, pulling Tawny up with him as he shoots Sam a look.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, ya moose. Shut up already."

* * *

No matter how hard Dean tries, he can't keep the promise he made to Tawny. It's not that he doesn't want to; he just _can't_ , and it absolutely kills him to break a promise to her. Next to Sam, she's the most important thing in his life. For eighteen years, his father had drilled into his skull that the only important thing is to 'protect Sammy!' and Dean's come to realize that's the skill John wanted him to perfect more than anything, more than hunting itself. Starting at the age of four he made Dean his soldier. He taught Dean first aid, the importance of salting every visible crack in a room, shoot guns that almost weighed more than he did. Then, when he was seven, his responsibility grew.

John first brought the boys to the Singer's on December 1, 1985, just over two weeks after her mother died. John didn't tell him how, just said that she'd 'passed away'. It was a euphemism Dean was familiar with. When Dean took his first step into Bobby's house it was incredibly different from the house they live in today. Sure, it was the same walls, same floor, even the same wallpaper, but it was different. It was clean, everything was in order.

The memory is a blur except for a few things. He distinctly remembers Sam's hand grasping the leg of his pants, his chubby two-year-old fingers barely able to keep hold of the rough denim. He remembers shaking Bobby's hand, remembers how it swallowed Dean's up in its calloused warmth. And he remembers the first time he saw Tawny. She was sitting on the floor in the kitchen, an old tattered ragdoll in one hand, half a peanut butter and jelly in the other. He remembers her chubby cheeks being smeared with the sticky jelly as she played with the doll, bouncing it along the floor and humming a tune she'd probably made up.

Dean was standing in the doorway of the kitchen when Tawny looked up, her brown eyes going wide with a smile to match them. She tried to stand, probably to run over and play, but her feet got caught in the dress she was wearing and she tumbled forward, her elbows hitting the floor. The sandwich fell to the ground along with the ragdoll, and Tawny burst into tears. Her wails of pain and fear made Dean's small chest ache, and he nearly ran over to her, Sammy trailing along behind him.

He sat next to her, pulling her into his lap and rubbing soothing circles into her back as he shushed her. He knew she was more scared than hurt, like Sammy usually was whenever he fell, so Dean just did the same thing to Tawny that he did to Sam. He pressed his cheek into her hair and softly sang _Hey Jude_ to her like his mother did when he was hurt or sad or sick. It worked, too, because Tawny stopped crying almost instantly and tucked her head under his chin, sniffling softly. He vaguely remembers John walking in, but the memory ends.

That's when he took on the responsibility of protecting both Sam _and_ Tawny. And it was a huge responsibility. Dean hated to see Tawny get hurt, but some of his best memories are of Tawny getting herself into some kind of situation that required the kind of poise she just doesn't possess. There are certain things she can do perfectly; hit a target from close to a thousand feet with her Colt, reload a shotgun in 2.3 seconds flat (he timed it once and they had to physically show John and Bobby for them to believe it), and he felt bad for anyone who pissed her off when she had a blade in her hand. Yet, at the same time, she was constantly tripping, falling, or bumping into things. Dean had learned to stop asking where her bruises came from because most of the time she would shrug and say she didn't know. A few of them he was there for, though, and even though it made it heart ache to see her in any kind of pain, Dean couldn't help but laugh at some of her less-than-graceful moments.

Like one time when she was about 12 she was carrying Sam's bag into the house and she got her foot caught in the shoulder strap. Now, most people would stop to untangle it, but did Tawny? No. She just kept walking, tripped, and did a full somersault over the bag. Dean was sixteen and it scared the hell out of him because she just sat there with a shocked look on her face for a moment, but as soon as she started laughing, he did, too. As she got older, she learned how to avoid situations like that, but he still caught her tripping on a stair (the same one she'd been tripping on for years, since the top part stuck out a little further than it was supposed to. Dean offered to fix it once, but she shot him a look and told him it 'gives the house some personality') or she would move just a little too fast and get her foot caught on a rug or something. She always laughed it off and called it her 'biggest little imperfection'.

She's never thought that she's perfect, but Dean tries to insist whenever he's given the chance. Yeah, she can be a little grumpy sometimes, she's got a temper like no one else, and she absolutely refuses to wake up when her alarm goes off, but to Dean these are all things that make her even more desirable. She's a fierce and loyal friend, a great cook, and Dean is always glad she has his back during a fight. That's the only time she never falters. She always knows what her body is going to be doing when, and she can anticipate her opponents' movements so closely that Dean sometimes wonders if she's a little bit psychic.

If Dean enjoys watching Tawny fight, he _loves_ watching her sleep. She looks so peaceful, all of the premature worry lines around her eyes and mouth disappear, and her lips part slightly. And, no matter how cold it is, she never wears anything more than a huge t-shirt and shorts, and usually it's just the shirt. When she was little she refused to sleep alone. Bobby let Sam and Dean share Tawny's room until she was six or seven; they would sleep on the floor in sleeping bags while Tawny slept in her bed. Every night he would wake up to Tawny crawling into his sleeping bag, sniffling softly as she recounted some nightmare she'd had, and Dean would let her snuggle into his chest. Things didn't change when they got to the age where Bobby gave them their own room. They would be asleep and Dean would hear the door creak open and Tawny would come stumbling in, bleary eyed from sleep. Usually she was awake enough to go to Sam's bed, but occasionally she was so messed up from a nightmare that she would climb into Dean's bed instead. He would let her, though, he'd let her curl up into his chest and fall back asleep, depending on Sam to wake them up in time for Tawny to get back into her own bed with John or Bobby finding out.

Dean didn't have a single moment where he fell in love with Tawny, it just sort of happened over the years. He would notice things about her, little quirks she had, songs she would hum, and the pieces fell into place on their own. The first time he realized it, though, he was twenty-two.

He was on a date with Robbi Pickner, a girl from some small town just outside Santa Fe. They were parked in an abandoned lot, tangled up in the back seat of the Impala. She was riding him enthusiastically and screaming his name, and for a second he saw Tawny the night before he left, sprawled out in bed next to him, wearing his t-shirt and he cried her name, filling the condom with creamy heat. If dropping Robbi off that night was awkward, seeing Tawny a week later was nearly unbearable. She'd practically assaulted him at the door, jumping in his arms and muttering in his ear how much she'd missed him and how glad she was that he was back, and it was hard for him to hide the fact that his jeans suddenly felt ridiculously tight. He had to duck off into the bathroom and shower just so he could rub one off like some fourteen-year-old. Every time he came after that he would see her face instead of the nameless bimbo he was fucking.

Tawny was the only one he wanted, is the only one he _wants_. He can't even imagine life without her, so breaking a promise is a huge deal, worse than breaking his promise to dad that he wouldn't tell Sam what dad had told him in the hospital. It was unbearable. But Dean couldn't do it and he had to tell her why, so he looked her in the face, sitting in that church, right in front of the fucking _altar_ and told her. He was happy to use Sam's bitching and whining about how he was a borderline Bible-thumper as a segue, but he looked at Tawny the whole damn time, happy for once that she was pressed into Sam's side instead of his.

"I'll tell you who else had faith like that – Mom," Dean says, and Sam looks over. Tawny, unfortunately, keeps her eyes on a candle flickering behind the altar. "She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me."

"You never told me that," Sam mutters. Dean nods, wishing Tawny would at least acknowledge he was speaking. But she just wipes her nose on the back of her hand, not even giving him a sideways glance. So he continues, hoping that at some point she'll give him the benefit of the doubt and forgive him for what he's saying.

"What's to tell? She was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God. There's just chaos and violence and random, unpredictable evil that comes outta nowhere and rips you to shreds. You want me to believe in this stuff? I'm gonna need to see some hard proof. You got any?"

Tawny stands and at first Dean thinks she's going to brush it off and move on, so he stands, too, ready to kiss and make up, but apparently the universe has decided it hates him today and she brushes past him, and he sees the tears flowing freely down her face. He watches her go and is about to follow when Sam grabs the back of his jacket.

"Let her go, Dean," he says, and Dean turns around to tell him to fuck off, but he stops when he sees a look on Sam's face like he's been through this before.

"I'm not getting outta this one easy, am I?" he asks, guilt sinking like lead in his belly. Sam's look says all he needs to hear, but his stupid brother opens his mouth anyways.

"No. I think it's gonna take a little more than a beer and the 'magic fingers' to get you out of the doghouse."

Dean nods, looking back at the closed doors, suddenly wishing he wasn't so fucking selfish.

"So," Sam suddenly says, and Dean looks at him hoping he looks as miserable as he feels. "What was it you wanted to show me?"

* * *

Tawny is about ninety-nine percent sure Dean wants her to kill him when he leaves her and Sam standing on the side of the road in front of the little corner store. At 11:00 at night. And its nineteen freaking degrees out.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with him?!" she practically yells, and Sam shrugs, either too pissed off or too shocked to speak. It's at least a mile to the church, and Tawny's jaw is twitching something awful when they finally get there. She's starting to wonder for at least the third time in the five months she and Dean have been together if he really wants to be in this relationship. Tawny leads the way around the building, quickly finding a window to the basement she can force open, and she squeezes through it, dropping to the floor. Sam slides the bag through, then follows, and they quickly make their way to the crypt.

Tawny sets the séance up the way Bobby taught her, and Sam watches closely, John's book lying open in his palm.

"Don't trust me?" she snaps, and Sam looks guilty.

"Course I trust you. Just wanna know what I'm doing," Sam says, looking down at the book. Tawny rolls her eyes and lights the candles before reciting the Latin that would draw the spirit of Father Gregory to them if he was sticking around. They're only about two thirds of the way through the séance when a voice scares Tawny enough to make her jump.

"What are you doing? What is this?"

Father Reynolds is standing in the doorway and Tawny stares up at him, falling back to rest on her heels. She and Sam look at each other desperately, then back up at the Father.

"Uh – Father, please, we can explain," Sam says, standing. Tawny does the same and falls behind Sam.

"Uh…" he says, and Tawny nudges him with her shoulder. "Actually, maybe I can't, um…"

Tawny rolls her eyes and pushes around Sam.

"This is a séance."

"A _séance_? Young lady, you are in a house of God."

"It's based on early Christian rites, if that helps any," Tawny offers, but the look she receives tells her it doesn't.

"Enough," Father Reynolds says, grabbing her upper arm. "You're coming with me."

"Father, please! Just wait a second!" Sam pleads, following them. Before anyone else can say a word a bright light fills the room and Tawny turns. What she sees is the most beautiful, frightening thing she's ever seen. At first it looks like an actual angel and Tawny's heart leaps. She faintly hears Father Reynolds ask if that's what it is, and she wants so badly to say yes, but she can't speak because she knows it isn't.

"No, it's not," she says quietly, her voice breaking. "It's just Father Gregory."

The light fades and, sure enough, there stands Father Gregory.

"Thomas?" Father Reynolds asks, staring in disbelief.

"I've come in answer to your prayers," he answers, then looks at Sam. "Sam…I thought I sent you on your path. You should hurry."

"Father, I'm sorry," Sam says, approaching the spirit. "But you're not an angel."

"Of course I am."

"No," Tawny says, tears in her eyes. "You're a man. You're a spirit. You don't have any divine calling to do this, God isn't telling you anything. No, what you need to do is be at rest."

"I was a man," Father Gregory argues. "But now I'm an angel. I was on the steps of the church. I felt that bullet pierce right through me. But there was no pain. And, suddenly, I could see…everything. Father Reynolds" he turns to face the Father "I saw you… praying and crying here. I came to help you."

"Help me how?" Father Reynolds asks tearfully. "Those murders – that was because of you?"

"I received the word of God. He spoke to me, told me to smite the wicked. I'm carrying out His will."

"You're driving innocent people to _kill_."

"Those innocent people are being offered _redemption_. Some people need redemption, don't they Sam?"

He looks pointedly at Sam and Tawny feels a flare of anger in her chest.

"Sam doesn't need redemption, he's done nothing _wrong_!" Tawny defends, stepping forward, but Sam wraps his fingers around her upper arm, pulling her back.

"How can you call this redemption?" Father Reynolds asks, and Father Gregory looks at him.

"You can't understand it now, but the rules of man and the rules of God are two very different things," he tried to explain, but Tawny's not buying any of it.

"Those people – they're locked up," Tawny says, and Father Gregory looks down at her.

"No, they're _happy_. They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to Heaven."

"No, _no_ ," Father Reynolds says, shaking his head "This is vengeance. It's wrong. Thomas, this goes against everything you believed. You're lost, misguided."

"Father… No, I'm not misguided."

"You are _not_ an angel, Thomas. Men cannot be angels."

"But…" he says, looking around at Sam. "But I-I don't understand."

Tawny looks at him, tears falling freely now. He looks back at Father Reynolds.

"You prayed for me to come."

"I prayed for God's help, not this. What you're doing is not God's will. 'Thou shalt not murder'. That's the word of God," Father Reynolds says, gently yet firmly. Father Gregory turns, staring at his own grave for what seems like hours, but is probably only a minute or two. He finally turns, looking at Father Reynolds.

"Let us help you," Tawny says quietly, but Father Gregory shakes his head.

"No."

"It's time to rest, Thomas. To be at peace. Please. Let me give you last rites," Father Reynolds urges. Father Gregory's face falls, so Father Reynolds wastes no time.

"O Holy hosts above, I call upon thee as a servant of Christ to sanctify our actions this day in the fulfillment of the will of God," he says, crossing himself. Father Gregory flickers like a torn film, and he looks up pleadingly. "Father Reynolds?"

"Rest."

Father Gregory kneels, and Tawny is grasping Sam's hand so tightly she's sure he has no feeling left in it.

"I call upon the Archangel Raphael, master of the air, to make open the way. Let the fire of the Holy Spirit now descend, that this being might be awakened to the world beyond."

There's a bright light that Tawny has to close her eyes to, and when she opens them again he's gone. The three of them stand in silence for a moment until Tawny can't take it anymore, and she makes her way out to the sanctuary. She kneels at the altar, sobbing, and soon feels a hand on her shoulder. Sam holds her and she looks up, seeing what she remembers of her mother's face.

"Lord," she prays, holding onto Sam. "Make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sew love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. Where there is sadness, joy. Oh, Divine Master grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it's in giving that we receive, and it's pardoning that we are pardoned, and it's in dying that we are born into Eternal Life. Amen."

* * *

Tawny's slipping out of her jeans when the door opens and Dean walks in. He looks at her, an expression on his face Tawny quickly places as pure emotional exhaustion.

"How was _your_ day?" he asks, though, and his voice betrays his eyes. Tawny doesn't answer, just pulls her shirt over her head and flings it into the pile of dirty laundry she'll have to do tomorrow. She's about to grab one of Sam's shirts when Dean puts a hand on her back. When Tawny turns to look at him, his eyebrows are pushed together like they get when he's worried about her or Sammy.

"Baby, I-" he starts, but Tawny pulls away from him.

"Look, Dean, you were right, okay? It wasn't an angel. It was just Father Gregory, like you said, so can we just drop it?" she pleads, grabbing the shirt she was going for and tossing it into the pile. When she turns around Dean's right behind her. He's got his hip flask in one hand and he offers it to her. She looks at it wearily for a moment, then takes it. The cool metal against her lips contrasts the burn in her throat and she closes her eyes, letting it warm her from the inside out. When she opens her eyes again Dean's only a few inches away from her face and she gets lost in his eyes for a moment. They're stunning from this close; caramel flakes around his pupil gradually darkening into a deep, mossy green around the edges. She finally breaks down and leans into his chest, burying her face in his shirt and taking a deep breath.

"I wanted to believe so badly, Dean. I- I wanted to believe that it was all real, that I would get to see her again. This job fucking sucks and that's the only way I can get through it. I have to force myself to think it's what she wants me to do, but… I don't know," she mutters into his chest. Her tears are back and when she pulls away his shirt is wet. She puts her hand on the spot, petting at his chest through the material. He takes her hand, holding it tightly as he raises it up to his lips and presses the pad of her middle finger against his mouth. He looks like he's thinking hard for a moment and then he speaks.

"Tawny, the guy Sam was supposed to go after – he's dead."

"What? How?" Tawny asks, surprised.

"There was this –" he starts, waving his hand, but he stops, his eyes positively swimming now. "Just—Father Gregory knew this guy was bad… I don't know how but he _knew_ and he was _right_. And if I hadn't seen the way this guy died, I never would have believed it. It- it was almost like…"

"Divine intervention?" Tawny asks, and Dean nods faintly.

"Tawny, I felt like it was God's will. I'm so sorry…" he says, the tears in his eyes finally spilling over onto his cheeks. Tawny raises a hand and wipes them away before leaning up to press a kiss to his mouth. He gently pushes her over to the bed, pulling her down onto it with him. They lay in silence, the only sound Tawny can hear is his heart beat as she rests her head on his chest and that's enough proof for her that there _is_ a God. And He's watching over them right now.


	12. Bad Moon Rising

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x14: "Born Under a Bad Sign" belong to writer Cathryn Humphris. The lyrics to "Bad Moon Rising" belong to John Fogarty and Creedence Clearwater Revival._ _  
_ _  
_ _Tawny belongs to me._

 ** _I see the bad moon arisin'  
I see trouble on the way  
I see earthquakes and lightnin'  
I see bad times today  
Don't go around tonight  
Well, it's bound to take your life  
There's a bad moon on the rise_**

The next few weeks pass in kind of a blur for Tawny. They pick up a few more cases; one from Bobby that turned out to be a haunting, one from Ellen that was a nest of Vampires, and two on their own. The first was another fairly simple haunting, but the second was a pain in the ass. A couple Norse demigods called Vanir decided to make a playground of Duluth. Dean had nearly lost his leg on that one, and it took Tawny almost a week to recover from it. She woke up every night screaming and Dean had to literally pin her to the bed to keep her from beating the hell out of him. He would shush her, holding her to his chest and pressing kisses into her temple. This, naturally, led to more physical pursuits.

They're in the motel room next to Sam's curled up in bed after nearly an hour of slow lovemaking they have no right to enjoy so much (even Dean seemed surprised he could pull that off) when Tawny's phone rings. She picks it up off of the bedside table, glancing at the caller ID to see its Bobby. Dean looks at the phone over her shoulder, gently bumping it with his as she flips it open and holds it up to her ear.

"Hey, daddy," she says lightly. Dean rolls over, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her, and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Hey, sugarbee. Just callin' to check up on you and the boys," Bobby says. She can hear the clink of a glass and she smiles.

"Oh, we're doing fine, daddy. Just finished that nest of vamps off a few hours ago," she says, knitting her eyebrows as Dean shuffles down. He pulls the sheet up and Tawny switches the phone to her other ear, using her right hand to shove gently at his shoulder in a silent warning. He only wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and pulls the sheet down over his head.

"That was quick," Bobby says, chuckling. Tawny smiles.

"Yeah, they were young and stupid. The alpha was the hardest, but still, guy couldn't have been more than nineteen, maybe twenty when he was turned, and that was only a year ago. So, why'd you really call? You miss me?"

Tawny flinches when she feels Dean's palm slide up her side, cupping the side of her breast, and tries to pull the sheet from over his head, but he holds it down.

"Well, maybe just a little," Bobby admits, sighing. Tawny gasps when Dean's lips close over a nipple.

"You okay, sugarbee?" Bobby asks, concern in his voice.

"Yeah, daddy. Just stubbed my toe. Look, I gotta go, but I'll call you back later, 'kay? Love you!"

She hears Bobby mumble a response, but flips the phone closed and tosses it onto the table before wrenching the sheet up, where Dean is grinning at her sheepishly.

"With my dad on the phone? _Really_?" she demands, glaring at him. It doesn't last when he moves up and kisses her deeply, one hand resting against her ribcage as the other reaches up to caress her neck. She sighs into his open mouth, his tongue probing, teasing hers before running over her top teeth and back down to rub the flat of his tongue against hers. He pulls away suddenly and Tawny chases his mouth, but he's too quick. He dives down, one elbow supporting him as he climbs over her completely, nudging her thighs open to settle between them, the hand on her neck pulling up just enough to angle her head so her throat's completely exposed and his lips close over her pulse point. He sucks sharply and Tawny gasps, arching into his touch.

"Dean, don't you fucking mark me up," she breathes, but there isn't much intimidation in her voice because the hand that _was_ on her ribcage – when the hell did it move?—just dipped between her legs. Her hands slide up his back, grasping his shoulder blades and digging her short, blunt nails into the muscle-hard flesh. His long fingers are pressing at just the right angle, the tips moving in fast, small circles and she can feel herself at the edge already. He lowers his mouth to hers again, his tongue fucking into her mouth with each rotation of his fingers. Dean suddenly slides his fingers down and slips two into her, pressing the heel of his palm into the small bundle of nerves and Tawny moans into his mouth as her walls clench around him.

Dean pulls away, his fingers still lazily thrusting into her as she rides the waves. Tawny finally opens her eyes to find he's watching her, his pupils blown and his lips red and swollen and slick with their mixed spit and he looks so completely fucked out and Tawny hasn't even _touched_ him yet. She can feel his searing hot erection pressed into her thigh and she moves against it, smiling when he lets out a broken little gasp.

"You gonna put that thing somewhere?" Tawny asks, surprised at how breathy her voice is. Dean pretends to ponder the offer a moment as he licks at his fingers.

"Thinkin' about it," he finally says, smirking. Tawny grins mischievously, bringing one knee up to his hip.

"Wrong answer, babe."

He doesn't have time to deliberate what she means because in less than a second she's hooked her other ankle behind his knee and he's lying on his back with a yelp. He stares up at her, his lust-blown eyes wide with surprise, before he finally grins like an idiot.

"God, I _love_ it when you take control, babe," he practically moans, sliding his hands up her side to grasp her breasts, rolling the pads of his thumbs over the erect nipples. Tawny arches into his touch, the gasp she lets out _definitely_ softening her glare.

"Shut up, Dean," she says quietly, reaching down between them to give his cock a few hard tugs. She runs her thumb over the leaking head, dragging it through a generous glob of pre-come before pulling away and lifting it to her mouth, sucking the tangy, salty treat off of her thumb. Dean's hands drop to her hips and his eyes close, his dick twitching and spurting another copious amount of pre-come onto his belly.

"Tawny, that was so… so fucking hot," he groans. She just smiles, sliding up so that her folds are hugging the underside of his cock, slippery and wet. She reaches behind her and pushes her hips up enough to angle it so the head is pressed into her and she slides down, taking him in until he bottoms out, both groaning in unison.

"C'mere," Dean manages to grind out, his hand grasping the back of her neck, pulling her down until he can kiss her. He bends his legs, planting his feet into the mattress to push up and thrust into her at a pace that seems impossible at this angle, but with the way the head of Dean's cock is hitting her sweet spot, Tawny can't find the brain power to ponder physics at the moment. It takes less than a dozen quick, hard thrusts and Tawny's coming, her face buried in his neck, her teeth clamped around the tendon standing out on it. Dean thrusts seven, eight, nine more times and he's coming to, twitching inside her as he paints her inner walls with creamy, white heat. Tawny collapses on Dean's chest, just lying there as his dick begins to soften inside her. She finally moves her hips up and lets him slide out of her, and he rolls them before moving to get up, but she grabs his arm.

"Just wanna get a washcloth, baby," he says quietly, but Tawny shakes her head.

"Stay," she whispers, and Dean cocks an eyebrow.

"Do you know how much of a pain in the ass this stuff is to get off once it's dry?" he asks, and Tawny nods.

"Don't care. Stay," she says, her eyelids suddenly heavy with fatigue. Dean shrugs, sinking back into the bed and wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest.

"Love you," he murmurs against her hair, and Tawny pulls away enough to look him in the eye.

"What?" he asks innocently, his eyes widening.

"Nothing," Tawny says, shrugging softly "You just never say that first. Usually you only say it when I do."

Tawny can't help but notice a flash of guilt in Dean's eyes and suddenly she wishes she hadn't said anything.

"I _do_ love you, though, Tawny. You know that, right?" he says, almost pleading. Tawny smiles and kisses him.

"I know. I love you, too, Dean."

* * *

When Tawny wakes up she knows Dean is just waiting to say 'I told you so'. She grimaces as she pulls the sheet away, seeing it's stuck to her thigh. Dean is just lying there looking at her, smirking.

"I told—" he starts, but Tawny slaps a hand over his mouth.

"Don't say it," she warns, going back to pulling the sheet from her skin. She nearly gags at the sight, and Dean continues to smirk at her.

"The next time I have the bright idea to have sex then go to sleep without cleaning up, please drag my ass to the bathroom and dump me in the tub," Tawny mutters, and Dean shrugs.

"I tried," he replies, kissing the tip of her nose before tossing the sheets back. He stands and holds out a hand, lacing his fingers with hers when she's standing. He gently pulls her to the bathroom, flipping on the light before walking over to the shower and turning the knob. Tawny leans against the counter, watching Dean as he turns on the shower, running his hand under the water to double check the temperature before stepping in.

"You comin'?" he asks, raising an eyebrow to Tawny. She nods, smiling as she crosses the small bathroom and climbs into the shower with him. The water is just bordering too-hot and Tawny immediately feels muscles she didn't realize were tense start to relax under the spray. She closes her eyes and rolls her neck a few times before angling her head so the water can soak through her tangled hair before pulling away and opening her eyes. When she does, Dean is staring at her.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathes. Tawny can't help the blush she feels and hopes the warmth of the water has flushed her skin enough that he won't notice it. He slowly steps forward, pulling her into his arms. He runs the tip of his nose across her forehead, his lips barely brushing it.

"You okay, baby?" Tawny can't help but ask, looking up at him. He presses a kiss to the center of her forehead before nodding. They take as long of a shower as the hot water tank will allow, which, in all actuality, is only about fifteen minutes. As they're drying off Tawny turns to Dean.

"I think I wanna go spend a few days with my dad," she says, wrapping the towel around her body. He puts on a fake-offended look.

"You mean you don't like me anymore?" he whines, pouting. Tawny smiles and shakes her head.

"Nope. You and your ridiculously huge junk just don't do it for me," she says seriously, walking over to him. He continues to pout until she presses herself against his chest, pressing a few kisses against his collarbone.

"Okay. We can drop you off then look for another case," Dean says, his hands rubbing her back slowly. Tawny nods, resting her head against Dean's chest. They stand like that for a moment before his hand stops at the top of the towel. He curls his fingers around it, tugging it off of her before grabbing the backs of her thighs and hoisting her up on the counter.

"In the meantime, though, I think we should make the next few hours count…"

* * *

When they get to Bobby's the next afternoon, Tawny is getting out of the car when she hears a loud bark and something collides with her legs, almost knocking her to the ground. Rummy flops his body against her thighs, whining happily as Tawny laughs and scratches behind his ears.

"Hey, buddy! I missed you," she coos, kneeling and hugging him around his neck. He sits obediently, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"I think that dog is in love with you," Dean jokes, grabbing Tawny's bag out of the backseat and closing the door. Tawny rubs Rummy's face and puts her nose up to his, scratching affectionately as she speaks in her best baby voice.

"I think someone's jealous."

"Don't know what he'd be jealous of," Bobby says from the porch, and Tawny stands, rolling her eyes. She and Dean had decided somewhere along the six hour drive that they need to tell Bobby about them. After the last encounter Dean had with Bobby about getting anywhere close to Tawny, though, they both agreed that it was best if Tawny tells Bobby alone.

"You boys stayin' for dinner?" Bobby asks as they approach the porch. Dean shrugs.

"Sure."

An hour later they're gathered around the table sharing a pot of chili Tawny was able to scrape up from the few ingredients Bobby had in his kitchen, Dean's bare foot absently brushing Tawny's ankle.

"So," Bobby says suddenly, leaning back in his chair and looking pointedly at Dean "how long have you been sleeping with my daughter?"

A series of events take place in the quarter of a second after the words float across the table: Dean chokes on the spoonful of chili he's just swallowed, Sam spits beer into his own bowl, and Tawny drops her spoon. The only sounds for the next minute are Dean's occasional coughs. Finally, when Bobby seems to know Dean can talk again, he crosses his arms over his chest and speaks again.

"I asked you a question, boy."

Dean turned his wide eyes to Tawny, who would find the look comical if not for the very realistic fear that Bobby's going to make a move for the 12-guage he keeps under the kitchen sink. Finally, Dean clears his throat and leans forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"Um… since, uh, right after dad died," Dean offers, his voice lilting at the end, making it sound more like a question than an answer. Bobby lets out a sound half way between and grunt and a yelp like a wounded animal and he stands with enough force to send his chair skidding across the room. Dean tries to stand and back up at the same time, resulting in his ankle catching the leg of the chair, which sends him tumbling to the floor. Tawny immediately jumps between them, holding her hands out to Bobby to keep him from doing whatever harm he's probably planning on doing.

"Daddy, wait—"

Bobby keeps walking towards Dean, who's back on his feet, his arm raised threateningly.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you, boy?" Bobby demands loudly, and Tawny puts a palm to his chest trying to keep him back. He drops both arms to his sides, his fingers curling into fists.

"Out," he says quietly, and Tawny can feel a lump forming in her throat. She falls back a step, looking up at Bobby with wide eyes.

"Dad –" she starts, but Bobby cuts her off.

"Get out," he repeats. Tawny turns to see Dean looking between them, clearly unsure of what to do. Tawny opens her mouth to speak, but Bobby's voice makes her jump.

"Get out!" he bellows, stepping forward and pushing his way in front of Tawny. She grabs at his shoulder but he shakes it off. Dean's eyes go wide.

"Bobby, I swear I didn't mean to –"

"Mean to what? What in the hell makes you think you deserve her?" Bobby demands. Tawny can see Dean's face fall and she can see him blinking back tears.

"I don't," he mutters before crossing the kitchen.

"C'mon, Sam," he says quietly as he walks behind him. Sam silently obeys and Tawny watches in disbelief as they walk out of her life again. She hears the front door open and close, then the quiet rumble of the Impala as Dean drives off. There's silence in the kitchen for a minute, only the sound of Bobby's ragged breathing breaking through the still tension-thick air. Finally, Tawny turns on her father.

"What's wrong with you?" she demands, glaring at him. Bobby scoffs.

"What's wrong with _me_? What's wrong with _you_?" he retorts, grabbing at Dean's overturned chair. He slams it on the ground, but Tawny doesn't even flinch. She only narrows her glare and takes a step forward.

"I didn't want you to find out this way, daddy," Tawny says. Bobby scoffs again.

"Like you were planning on telling me at all."

"I was!" Tawny defends, stepping forward again. Bobby doesn't say anything, only makes his way out of the room and Tawny can hear him walking towards the study. She follows, watching as he sits heavily in his desk chair and picks up a bottle of Jim Beam, dumping a good portion of the amber liquid into an empty coffee mug.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" Tawny asks, approaching Bobby's desk. He lifts the mug to his mouth and takes a gulp, but doesn't answer.

"I thought you'd be happy for us," she says quietly, leaning against the doorframe. Bobby looks up, an angry burn in his eyes.

"Happy for you? _Happy_ for you? How the hell could I be happy for you?" He stands, slamming his mug down on the desk furiously.

"I – Dean isn't right for you, Tawny. Why can't you see that?"

"What the hell do you mean, 'not right' for me?" she demands, glaring.

"He's a God-damned Hunter, Tawny! You deserve more than that life!" he says, and Tawny can feel a flush of rage spike in her chest.

" 'That life'?" she says through gritted teeth, walking towards him. "You mean the life I'm _living_? In case you haven't noticed, _I_ am a Hunter. My father is a Hunter. My best friends, your best friends, _all_ of our fucking friends are God-damned Hunters! So, yeah, I'd expect you to be happy that Dean and I have the fucking mental capacity to love each other, despite all of the shit we've been through. I'd expect you to be glad I'm with someone who can protect me and doesn't think I'm a God-damned freak because I can shoot guns and use a knife and keep a fucking flask of Holy Water under my pillow!"

Tawny's chest is heaving when she's finished, and Bobby's staring at her with wide eyes. Neither of them speaks until Bobby's sunk back into his chair, his hand's clenching the armrests so hard his knuckles are almost purple.

"Go to your room," he says quietly, and Tawny lets out a chuckle that sounds a bit too callous even in her own ears.

"I'm not sixteen anymore, dad. I'm twenty-fucking-three, in case you hadn't noticed."

Bobby stands again, the chair rolling back to hit the edge of the fireplace with a dull _thunk_.

"This is still my damned house, so either go to your room or get out!"

Tawny feels like he'd slapped her. He's _never_ told her to leave before. Ever. Bobby starts to apologize, but Tawny shakes her head and turns, running out of the house without even putting her shoes on.

* * *

Tawny comes back the next morning, partly because she's cold and wet from spending the night in the bed of her truck with only Rummy for warmth, but mostly because she knows her father needs her. They spend the next few weeks in succinct silence. Tawny still cooks and cleans and does the laundry, just like Bobby still helps other hunters on their own cases, but they don't speak any more than is necessary.

Dean, on the other hand, doesn't answer her calls or text messages for over a week. She knows he has to be upset about what happened, not only because he lost her but because he lost _Bobby_. She knows he's the closest thing Sam and Dean have to a father since John died. So, she's vaguely surprised when she gets a text from Dean one afternoon.

 _In Texas. We're safe. Text you when we leave._

It's a simple message, but it's enough to relieve some of the pressure that's been building in Tawny's chest since Sam and Dean left. She gets another one a few days later saying they're leaving Texas, then another the same night telling her they're in Pennsylvania.

The next morning Tawny's washing their breakfast dishes when she hears her phone ringing in her back pocket. She quickly dries her hands, pulling the phone out and glancing at the caller ID. Tawny feels a tug of unease in her belly when she sees its Dean.

"Sam's gone," Dean says as soon as the call connects. It takes Tawny a second to realize what he's said, but when she does, panic starts to kick in.

"Where are you? Are you hurt?" Tawny asks, leaving the kitchen. She ignores Bobby's look of curiosity, taking the stairs two at a time and walking quickly down the hall to her room, where she closes and locks the door.

"No, I'm not hurt. I'm still outside of Philly. I woke up and Sam was – he was just gone," Dean says quietly. Her cat, an eight year old Tabby named Mindy, lets out a squawk of surprise when Tawny drops down onto the bed.

"Okay, I'll take the next flight out and –" Tawny starts, but Dean cuts her off with a scoff.

"No, no, no, you stay there. I don't need your dad hating me any more than he already does," Dean says. For the next few moments all Tawny can hear is rain in the background, and she finally heaves a sigh.

"Fine. Just – just promise you'll call in a few hours, okay?" Tawny pleads, laying back on the mattress in defeat.

"Yeah, I promise," he mutters.

"And Dean?" Tawny quickly adds before he has time to hang up.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

There's a pause on his end, the quick patter of falling rain on what has to be the Impala's hood the only sound for a solid fifteen seconds. Then, as if it's Dean's deepest, darkest secret, "I love you, too."

* * *

The second call comes a few hours later, unfortunately when Tawny's in the study reorganizing Bobby's extensive library. Bobby turns, looking at Tawny with narrowed eyes, and suddenly Tawny's kicking herself because she just _had_ to give Dean his own stupid ringtone and it just _had_ to be that stupid song John and Bobby caught Dean teaching Tawny to dance to in the kitchen when Tawny was fourteen and had just been asked to her first school dance. Somehow it became 'their song' and Tawny's never been able to live it down.

After a few seconds, Bobby finally rolls his eyes and turns back around, allowing Tawny to jump down from the step-ladder and fish her phone out of her back pocket while running out of the room. She flips it open and before she can get the phone to her ear she hears Dean talking.

"—killed someone."

"Dean? Rewind, please. Sam killed someone?" Tawny asks, grabbing the edge of the kitchen counter because suddenly she feels like she's going to pass out. Dean sighs in annoyance.

"Long story short, I found Sam. He's covered in blood, Tawny, and he thinks he killed someone," he says, and Tawny can hear the genuine worry in his voice.

"Well, it had to have been something he was hunting, right?"

Dean sighs again, but this time Tawny knows it isn't out of exasperation. It's out of fear.

"I don't think so, babe. Look, stay with your dad and I'll call you as soon as we have this figured out, 'kay? I love you."

"I love you, too," Tawny sighs, turning to lean her lower back against the counter as she flips the phone shut with one hand. If Dean thought Sam had killed someone, a _human_ , then things between the two of them are worse that she thought. She knows that with Sam's new abilities comes a huge risk. They have no idea why he has visions, or what the next step will be. Tawny worries about what could happen to Sam more than he knows, definitely more than Dean knows.

Tawny is pulled from her thoughts when her phone beeps, telling her that it's battery is nearly dead. She sighs, pushing herself away from the counter and heading out of the kitchen to make her way up the stairs to her room. It beeps again, and Tawny rolls her eyes at it.

"Okay, okay, I get it," she mutters, kneeling down next to her dresser to plug the phone's charger in. She sets it back down on the floor, standing and leaving the room.

* * *

A few hours later the landline rings. Tawny drops the duster in her hand onto the couch and grabs the receiver, but when she holds it up to her ear the line's dead. She doesn't have time to ponder it before there's a slow knock on the door and she hears her father answer.

"Sam," he chuckles out, and something heavy and ugly settles in the pit of Tawny's stomach. She hears Sam respond before a few more words are exchanged, then the sound of footsteps as the two of them make their way into the study.

"So what brings you?" Bobby asks as Sam walks over to Tawny, pulling her in for a hug. Something about it isn't right; his body's too stiff, his face doesn't immediately drop to press a kiss to the crown of her head like he normally does.

"Workin' a job nearby and I thought I'd drop in and say 'hey'," Sam answers, pulling away enough to loop an arm around Tawny's neck and hold her to his side.

"Where's Dean?" Bobby asks, turning to look at them briefly as he walks into the kitchen. Sam pulls Tawny to the doorframe and chuckles.

"Holed up somewhere with a girl and a 12-pack," he answers, and Tawny can't help the anger that bubbles up. Somehow she knows this isn't Sam, but the thought still bothers her, probably because a year ago it would be true.

"Oh, yeah?" Bobby banters from the kitchen. "Is she pretty?"

"You ask me, he's in way over his head."

Bobby finally emerges with three bottles of beer. He hands one to Sam, who gladly takes it, before handing the other to Tawny. She watches Sam closely as Bobby raises his bottle.

"To John," he toasts, and Sam's eyes get all misty and he taps Bobby's bottle with his.

"To dad."

Tawny's fully expecting the reaction Sam has to the beer. Between the coughing, snarling, and rush of steam, Tawny knows that, first, Sam is definitely possessed, and, second, that her father is _never_ off his game.

"What'd you do?" demon-Sam growls from the floor, where he's on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

"Little Holy water in the beer. Sam never would have noticed, but, then, you're not Sam, are you? Don't try to con a con man."

Tawny winces when Bobby hits Sam, glancing up at her father as he hands her his beer.

"Did you have to hit him so hard?" she asks, bending to pick up the empty bottle lying by Sam's limp hand. That beer is going to be a _bitch_ to clean out of the hardwood. Bobby busies himself with dragging Sam into the study, so Tawny walks back into the kitchen, dropping the bottles into the sink before pulling open the pantry to grab the mop. For the next forty-five minutes she and Bobby work in silence, him tying Sam to a chair in the middle of the Devil's Trap on the ceiling, her mopping, then scrubbing, at the damp-darkened wood floor. Tawny's putting the scrub brush back in the linen closet upstairs when she hears the rumble of the Impala. She races down the stairs, opening the front door just as Dean shuts the car door.

"Dean!" she yells, practically gliding over the front steps and pouncing on Dean. He grunts in pain and Tawny pulls away to see him nursing his right shoulder. She can see the bandage peeking out of his torn sleeve and she grabs at his bicep.

"What the hell happened, Dean?" she asks, squinting at the patch job. It was good, but Tawny should re-do it.

"Sam – or whatever the hell is _in_ Sam – shot me. Don't you ever pick up your damn phone?" he growls, looking down at her with an expression of anger-annoyance-love-relief that only he can pull off. Tawny looks up at him confused, ready to tell him she didn't get any calls, and then she realizes her phone is up in her room, so of course she wouldn't hear it.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes quietly, looking down. Dean sighs, reaching up with his good hand to cup Tawny's cheek.

"'s okay. You're safe, that's all that matters," he murmurs before pressing a kiss to her mouth. Tawny turns when the front door slams to see Bobby standing on the porch, his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face. Dean shifts nervously behind Tawny and she can hear fabric rustling and she knows he's rubbing the back of his neck nervously. They stand in silence for a while before Tawny's had enough.

"Look, I get it. You're freaking out because you think he's gonna take me away or hurt me or whatever. Fine. You're my dad; you _get_ to not like him. But right now, I couldn't give two craps about what you have a right to do. I only care about Sam being tied to a chair with some demon fucking with him. So, can you two please at least _pretend_ to like each other? Just for, like, an hour?"

The words leave Tawny's mouth before she can stop them. Bobby stares at her for a second before finally caving, quite literally. His chest deflates and he drops his hands to his side, using one to half-heartedly wave them in. Tawny turns, smiling weakly at Dean, who only looks at her with an expression of mild surprise on his face. They make their way inside, but instead of heading to the study, Tawny grabs Dean's wrist and guides him into the kitchen.

"Tawny, what're you –" he starts to protest, but Tawny unceremoniously shoves him down into a chair at the table.

"I'm gonna redo your bandage and you're gonna shut the fuck up and let me."

Surprisingly Dean doesn't make any attempts to get away while Tawny digs a first aid kit out of the pantry, and he's relatively still while Tawny starts to pull away the bandage. He flinches when a smear of dried blood catches on the edge of the bullet hole blemishing the otherwise perfect flesh-covered-muscle.

"Sorry," she murmurs, carefully pulling the bandage away completely. To be honest, it wasn't too bad of a patch job. Tawny probably wouldn't have bothered changing it if she wasn't going into over-protective girlfriend mode.

"Who cleaned this?" Tawny asks, nodding vaguely towards his shoulder as she pops open the kit and pulls out a fresh gauze pad and bottle of antiseptic. She pops the cap off of the brown bottle, putting the gauze over the opening and letting gravity soak the cloth as she turns it upside down. She looks at him expectantly and he sighs.

"Jo," he mutters, looking away from her, guilt melting into his features. Tawny can't help but smile.

"How is she?" Tawny asks, gently pressing the wet gauze against the wound. She glances up when he hisses lightly and moves her free hand down to squeeze his knee lightly.

"Dean, what happened?" she asks, pressing down a little more to try to clean the wound as best as she can. She pulls the gauze away, happy to see there's only a minimal amount of blood mixed in with the antiseptic. Dean is silent until she has a fresh square of gauze against his wound, then he starts to speak quietly as Tawny tapes it down.

He tells her about waking up one night to Sam being gone (a habit Tawny was really going to have a nice long chat with Sam about breaking), calling everyone he knew in the hopes Sam was with one of them. Then he told her about Sam finally calling him and telling Dean where he was, and how Sam was covered in blood. Someone else's blood. Blood that turned out to be another hunter's. He told her about Sam's reaction to watching himself slit another hunter's throat on camera, about Sam telling him that the only way to stop him was to kill Sam. To shoot him before he had the chance to hurt someone else, another father, son, and husband. Tawny's at her breaking point but Dean doesn't stop. He goes on, telling her about Sam knocking him out and running off to Duluth to find Jo, to try to kill her, then asking Dean again to kill him. Then about Sam shooting him and coming after Tawny and Bobby. By the time he's finished, they're both in tears, Tawny's hands on his knee.

Tawny knows there aren't words. Nothing she could say would ever make the hurt or the guilt leave Dean's eyes; only time could heal that wound. For now, though, she stands enough to climb into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as best she can while avoiding the wound in his shoulder. He buries his face in her throat, his breaths coming deep and shaky, his lips finding her pulse point and kissing it before pushing his nose against it, breathing in her scent. They sit like that for a long time, until the sky is a dusky cobalt, signaling that, thankfully, the night is over and they can start fresh. Tawny pulls away gently, pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead before lightly resting her own against it.

"Let's go get our Sammy back, 'kay?"

Dean nods weakly and Tawny stands up, throwing the used gauze across the kitchen towards the trashcan, which she misses completely, but at the moment she could care less. She leans back over the table, throwing the medical supplies back into the box haphazardly. She smiles lightly when she feels Dean squeeze the hip closest to him, letting his fingers trail lightly across the thin strip of skin exposed between her low-slung jeans and tank-top. She quickly closes the box, turning to find herself chest-to-chest with Dean.

"We get to have make-up sex after this, right?" he asks, that famous Winchester smirk playing on his lips. Tawny grins and leans up to kiss him.

"Not in my house, you ain't."

Tawny sighs, leaning around Dean to glare softly at Bobby.

"Sorry to ruin your make-out session, but there's a possessed kid out here I'm just a little fond of," Bobby quips, hooking his finger over his shoulder. He doesn't wait for either of them to respond before turning and making his way back into the study. Tawny and Dean quickly follow, Dean not wasting any time to carefully rouse a still-unconscious Sam. He brusquely slaps him once, letting out a sharp "Hey!". Sam's head rolls to the side and he moans before turning his head back to look up at Dean. Tawny's stomach churns at the hate in his eyes. They both look up at the Devil's Trap on the ceiling before looking at each other.

"Dean. Back from the dead," Sam smirks "Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."

"How 'bout I smack that smart-ass right outta your mouth?" Dean counters, not even flinching.

"Oh, careful now. Wouldn't wanna bruise this fine packaging."

"Oh, don't worry," Tawny cuts in, circling Dean to see demon-Sam straight on. "This won't hurt Sam much." She picks up a bucket of Holy water Bobby set by the chair.

"You on the other hand…"

She tosses the bucket of water on him, watching the steam rise from where it's soaked into his shirt, unable to look at his face as it contorts into pain. No matter how much she wanted to make this demon suffer, this was still her Sammy.

"Feel like talkin' now?" Dean practically yells as Tawny tosses the bucket aside.

"Sam's still my meat puppet," demon-Sam grinds out. "I'll make him bite off his tongue."

"No, you won't be in him long enough."

Dean doesn't look away when he says Bobby's name, and Bobby knows that's his cue. Tawny focuses on Sam's face as Bobby starts to recite the Rite of Exorcism, circling Sam as the Latin flows from his mouth like he's reading the Sunday paper.

"See," Dean continues, unwavering, "whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cookin' up, you're not gettin' Sam, you understand me?"

Tawny watches as he bends closer, his eyes boring into demon-Sam's face.

"'Cause I'm gonna kill every one of you first."

Tawny is beginning to wonder why nothing's happening when demon-Sam tosses his head back and laughs.

"You really think that's what this is all about –" he chuckles, looking at Dean. "the 'Master Plan'? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan."

Bobby resumes reciting the words, but demon-Sam turns his eyes to Tawny and gives her a look of disapproval.

"Oops. Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks after you and Daddy sent me back to the pit."

Tawny watches with wide eyes as demon-Sam drops his head and starts reciting Latin of his own. Dean looks down at Tawny for answers, but she shakes her head, not recognizing what he's saying. She flinches when the fire behind Bobby flares, unable to help moving closer to Dean, who reaches out and wraps the hand of his good arm around her wrist. The room begins to shake violently, a wind picking up and scattering paper around the room.

"This isn't going like I pictured. What's goin' on, Bobby?" Dean calls out. Bobby circles Sam, looking vaguely until he pulls at his arm, exposing a burn shaped like an upside-down uppercase 'Q'.

"Shit," Tawny mutters, stepping closer to Dean when a particularly nasty shake sets a stack of books on edge.

"What?" Dean asks her, looking at her with wide eyes.

"It's a Binding Link. It's like a lock. Exorcism isn't gonna work, Dean," she practically yells back.

"What the hell do we do?" he yells back, and Tawny draws up her shoulders.

"I don't know!"

"Come on, Tawny! You know, like, everything!"

"Jesus Christ, Dean! It's not like they offered this as a course in high school!"

They're torn from their argument when the ceiling cracks, breaking the Trap permanently. For some reason all Tawny thinks is that her room is directly above them and her furniture has probably all shifted.

"There," demon-Sam says, and Tawny looks at him, her eyes widening when she sees that his irises are gone, just two pits of black are staring at her. She suddenly gets the feeling he can see right down to her _soul_.

"That's better."

The next thing Tawny knows, she's in the air, pinned against the wall and quickly sliding up it until she's pinned to the ceiling. Dean lets out a strangled cry and his eyes go wide as demon-Sam flicks his head and Tawny falls, hitting the desk and rolling off of it into a crumpled heap. She hears another crash and looks over to see Bobby sprawled out on the floor, knocked unconscious. Dean is the last to be thrown across the room, his body smacking against the door frame hard enough for it to groan against his weight. Tawny can barely see the bright silver flask of Holy water as it slides across the floor and out of Dean's reach. She looks up, scarcely noticing the tear that escapes her eye when she sees the pain Dean's in. Demon-Sam breaks free from the chair he's tied to, sauntering over to Dean. Tawny tries to move, but a sharp stab of pain shoots through her side and she knows she has a couple broken ribs.

"You know when people wanna describe the worst possible thing," demon-Sam starts, and Tawny finds the strength to slide a foot towards Dean.

"They say it's like Hell."

Another foot. Tawny flinches when she hears demon-Sam punch Dean.

"Well, there's a reason for that. Hell is like, uh…"

Eight inches. Right hook to the nose.

"Well, it's like Hell, even for demons."

Ten inches. Right hook to the jaw.

"It's a prison made of bone and flesh and blood and fear."

One foot. Right hook to the temple.

Tawny reaches out and grabs the flask of Holy water, but demon-Sam turns, one hand still holding Dean by the collar of his shirt, the other closing around Tawny's hand, squeezing until the flask bends into an unnatural shape.

"And you sent me back there," he hisses, pulling his hand away and waving it nonchalantly. Tawny slides against the wall, her feet smacking against a rickety table laden with books that topple over, the heaviest ones crashing onto her knees. Tawny whimpers when one falls onto her hip and rolls against her broken ribs.

"Meg," she hears Dean say, and she opens her eyes enough to see him. She tries to move, but finds she can't.

"No. Not anymore. Now I'm Sam."

His fist collides with the side of Dean's face and she can't help the sob that escapes when Dean looks at her, pain reverberating in his eyes. Not just physical pain, but the pain of seeing Sam like this. This is his Sammy more than her Sammy. The Sammy that John always told him to look out for, to protect. The one order Dean feels he disobeyed.

"By the way," demon-Sam says, tugging Dean closer to him. Dean turns his eyes to his brother's face. Demon-Sam lifts a hand and digs his thumb into the bullet hole, and Tawny has to close her eyes when Dean lets out a strangled moan of pain.

"I saw your dad there. He says 'Howdy'."

Tawny feels hot tears spilling from behind her eyelids as she hears Dean's continued groans of pain and she suddenly realizes what her father felt all those years ago. She just wants Dean to stop hurting. But he doesn't, the torture at his brother's hand doesn't come to an end.

"All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day, and that I was gonna torture you, nice and slow, like pulling the wings off an insect. But whatever I do to you, or to your pretty little girlfriend over there, it's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your dad, and deep down, you know that you can't save your brother. They'd have been better off without you. Too late for that, though. I think I'll start with Tawny, but before that…"

Tawny opens her eyes just enough to see demon-Sam raise his fist one last time, intending to thrust it towards Dean's face again, but Bobby grabs him around the wrist, pressing a hot fire-iron to the Link, breaking it. Sam lets out a pained scream as Meg rips herself from his body. Tawny suddenly feels the pressure holding her down dissipate, and finds she can move, albeit painfully. She vaguely hears Sam scrambling to sit up, but her eyes are focused on Dean, whose eyes are, of course, focused on Sammy. She struggles to pull herself up enough to slide towards Dean, a strangled sob of pain escaping her throat when Bobby reaches down and tries to pull her up. Sam says something Tawny doesn't quite catch and Dean hits him before falling back against the wall. Bobby seems to understand what Tawny wants when she moans Dean's name, another bolt of pain shooting through her side.

Dean reaches out, and when his fingertips touch hers she somehow finds the strength to push herself into his chest with one hard kick against an upward turned floor board. Dean pulls her to him, letting her bury her face in his neck as sobs overtake her body. She blindly hooks a leg between his, using it to pull their bodies flush against one another.

"You're not worthless," she manages to breathe into his neck, her arms snaking around his waist. She pulls away enough to look at his face. His eyes are clenched shut and she wants to look into them, to make sure he understands what she's saying, so she kisses his chin, slowly moving up to his lips. She tastes blood when she pulls away, but his eyes are open, the gold-flecked green watery.

"You're not worthless," she whispers "you're my everything."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Tawny's perched in Dean's lap, nothing but an Ace bandage and bra covering her chest, an ice pack in her hand pressed to Dean's temple. He moves to pull away and she drops the ice pack, holding it against her ribs and sighing when she feels the relief it brings.

"By the way, guys. You both look like crap."

Tawny and Dean look at Sam, both annoyed.

"Yeah, right back at 'cha."

Tawny turns back to Dean, lightly kissing his un-bruised temple as Bobby walks in. He drapes the shirt he left the room to find over Tawny's shoulders, running the back of his fingers over her cheek before leaning against the desk.

"You boys ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell."

Tawny looks down at Dean, who shoots her his _I'll-explain-later_ look before looking up at Bobby.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just heard from a friend, Wandell's dead – murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that."

"No, sir," Dean answers obediently. "Never heard of the guy."

Sam mutters Dean's name, but Dean ignores him.

"Good," Bobby answers. "Keep it that way. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up. They're not gonna slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?"

"We better hit the road," Dean says, and Tawny stands, wincing when her ribs protest to the pull of her diaphragm. "If, uh, you can remember where we parked the car."

He and Sam stand, and Tawny suddenly feels a tightness in her chest.

"Here. Take these," Bobby says, dropping a charm in Sam's hand, then Dean's. He holds one out to Tawny, who slowly holds out her hand. He drops the cold copper into her hand and she turns it over in her palm.

"What are they?" Sam asks, and Tawny looks up at him.

"Protective charms. They fend off possession," she answers softly, before Bobby cuts in.

"That demon's still out there. This will stop it from getting' back up in you."

"Well, that sounds vaguely dirty, but, uh, thanks," Dean says, looking at Tawny.

"You're welcome," Bobby answers before raising his eyebrows at Sam and Dean. "You boys be careful, now. Take care of my little girl."

Tawny snaps her eyes up to Bobby's face, which has an expression on it she can't quite read.

"Wait, so, does this mean—" she starts, and Bobby nods.

"Like you said, you're twenty-three now," he says softly, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You aren't a little girl anymore, no matter how much I want you to be. You get to make your own choices, and that includes deciding who you give your heart to."

He cups her cheek with one hand and steps towards her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"And don't tell him this," Bobby whispers loud enough for Dean to hear, his eyes flicking up to look at Dean playfully. "But I think you made a damn good choice."

Tawny grins when Bobby pulls away from her, allowing her to turn to look at Dean, whose face is slightly flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah, so do I."

 ** _For those of you who're wondering, Tawny and Dean's song is "Everything I Do (I Do It For You)" by Bryan Adams._**


	13. Basket Case

**Disclaimer:** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x15: "Tall Tales" belong to writer John Shiban. The lyrics to "Basket Case" belong to Bilie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tré Cool._

 _Tawny belongs to me._ _  
_

 _ **Do you have the time to listen to me whine  
About nothing and everything all at once  
I am one of those melodramatic fools  
Neurotic to the bone no doubt about it**_

 _ **Sometimes I give myself the creeps  
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me  
It all keeps adding up, I think I'm cracking up  
Am I just paranoid? Am I just stoned?**_

"Dude. You mind not eating those on _my_ bed?"

Tawny looks up from the heavy book propped open against her pillow at the foot of the bed she had taken over and looks at Sam. She can't really blame him for being on edge, but it _was_ Tawny who banished Dean to the couch, which Sam was currently taking up. So she can understand why Dean chose to settle down on the only other comfortable space with his large order of chili-cheese fries.

"No, I don't mind," Dean replies, and Tawny turns her head in time to see him drop a few fries in his mouth. Tawny rolls her eyes and turns back to her book, bending her knees and crossing her ankles, hugging Dean's pillow, which she also told him he wasn't allowed to have, closer to her chest. It wasn't because of what he did; being told that he had to sleep on the couch was enough punishment. But Tawny kept his pillow because it smells like him. Tawny hears Dean licking his fingers and he turns a page of his magazine.

"How's the research going?" he asks through a mouthful.

"You know how it's going?" Sam snaps back, slamming his book shut. Tawny looks up to see Sam grinning at Dean sarcastically. "Slow. You know how it would go a heck of a lot faster? If I had my computer."

Tawny looks at Dean, whose returning the same grin. He hums in response before turning back to his bikini models or new transmissions or whatever he's reading about. Tawny looks back at Sam, who's opened another book. He flips through a few pages before he looks up at Dean.

"Can you turn that down, please?" he demands, looking at the radio. Tawny turns back to her book as Dean mutters "Yeah, absolutely." But he turns the music up louder, and Tawny slams her own book shut, knowing she isn't going to get any reading done.

She sits up, running a hand roughly through her hair as she swings her legs over the side of the bed and looks at Dean, who's completely absorbed in his magazine.

"You know what, Tawny," Sam says, looking over at her. "Maybe you and Dean should go somewhere, huh? Have a little time to yourselves?"

Tawny looks at him with a raised eyebrow, but before she can answer, Dean shuts off the radio.

"Hey, I'd love to go somewhere, have a little alone time with Tawny. Maybe get a blowjob. That's a great idea. Unfortunately, my car's all screwed to hell."

"Dean, I told you, I had nothing to do with –" Sam replies, but a knock on the door distracts him. Tawny stands and practically runs to the door, wrenching it open and throwing herself into Bobby's arms.

"Save me, daddy," she whimpers, hugging him tightly. He tries to push her away, laughing, but when she doesn't budge he slowly walks her into the room backwards.

"Hey boys," he tosses over her shoulder, rubbing her back. "It's good to see you again so soon."

Sam walks over and claps him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for coming," he says. Tawny feels Bobby smile against her cheek before he prods her back slowly.

"Wanna, uh, help me with this? Apparently she's reverting back to being six," Bobby chuckles weakly, and Tawny hears Sam chuckle, too, before his hands close over her ribcage and he pulls her away from Bobby. Before she can protest, Sam has an arm under her knees and is carrying her over to the bed.

"Daddy needs to talk to the grown-ups now," Sam says playfully, setting her down. She punches him in the arm, grinning when he lets out a small huff of pain.

"I'm a grown-up, too, douchebag."

Tawny watches as Dean approaches Bobby, suddenly curious as to how Bobby will deal with him knowing that they're together. He surprises her by only holding out his hand, shaking Dean's.

"Thank God you're here," Dean says, glancing over at Tawny. Bobby does the same before turning back to Dean and Sam.

"So, uh, what didn't you wanna talk to me on the phone about?"

"It's this job we're working," Sam says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He scoffs lightly. "We weren't sure you'd believe us."

Bobby chuckles and looks over at Tawny. "Oh, I can believe a lot," he says.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I know," Sam says. "It's just, we've never seen anything like it."

"Not even close," Dean adds.

"We thought we could use some fresh eyes," Sam says. Bobby shrugs.

"Why don't you begin at the beginning?"

Bobby sits on the corner of Tawny's bed, squeezing her knee lightly when she scoots closer to him. Dean mirrors them on Sam's bed, and Sam turns a chair around.

"So," Sam says, and Bobby nods towards an empty plate that had one of Dean's double bacon cheeseburgers on it sitting on the opposite side of the bed. Tawny rolls her eyes and leans over, grabbing it and sitting back up to toss it at Dean. He only grins sheepishly.

"It all started when we caught wind of an obit," Sam continues, ignoring them. "See, a professor took a nose dive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pretexted as reporters from the local paper."

 _Sam wonders how the two in front of him ever got into college. He'd seen a lot at Stanford: Frat boys and Sorority girls, jocks and cheerleaders, both spending way more time drinking than studying. But these two were the cream of the crop. He looks up at them once he has the recorder sitting in the middle of the table, doubtful that he's going to get much useful information out of them, but he may as well try._

" _Yeah, we both had the professor for 'Ethics and Morality'," the jock, Curtis, starts._

" _Yeah? So why do you think he did it?" Sam asked, looking between them. The blonde, whose name he can't remember, leans forward enthusiastically._

" _Who knows? He was tenured, wife and kids. His book is, like, a really big deal."_

 _She nods, and Sam suddenly gets a mental picture of one of those bobble-headed Chihuahuas old lady's collect. He returns the nod anyways, hoping she'll get on with her story._

" _Then again, who's to say it was suicide?"_

" _Jen, c'mon," Curtis chides, and Sam feels a small spark of hope. Maybe this won't be a total waste of time after all._

" _Well, what else_ could _it be?" he asks, looking at the jock._

" _Well, you know about Crawford Hall," Jen says, leaning forward again, like she's about to reveal some big secret._

" _No, I don't, actually," Sam says, leaning forward slightly, too._

" _It's a bunch of crap. It's a total urban legend," Curtis says, and Jen turns to glare at him._

" _Yeah, well, Heather's mom went to school here, and she knew the girl," Jen says, raising her eyebrows at him._

" _Wait, what girl?" Sam asks._

" _Like, 30 years ago, this girl was having an affair with some professor. He broke it off. She jumped out the window and killed herself."_

" _You know her name?" Sam asks. Jen looks disappointed._

" _No. But they say she jumped from room 669. Get it? You turn the 9 upside-down…"_

 _Sam lets out a false 'Ah' of realization, trying hard not to laugh at her wild imagination. Curtis, on the other hand, chuckles openly._

" _So now she haunts the building," Jen continues, shooting Curtis an annoyed glare. "And anyone who sees her… They don't live to tell the tale."_

" _Well, if no one lives to tell the tale, then how does the tale get told?" Curtis points out, and suddenly Sam kinda likes him, even if he is a jock._

" _Curtis, shut up!" she snaps. He turns and shrugs at Sam._

" _You know what? Uh, thanks a lot, guys. Excuse me," Sam says, standing. He walks over towards the bar, where he sees Dean and Tawny leaning up against it, doing shots of some purple liquid._

" _Guys," Sam says, approaching them. He glances at the shot glasses. "What are you – what are you drinking?" Dean belches and slings an arm over Tawny's shoulders. Sam takes a second to look her over, and he feels an unwanted stirring in his groin. Her hair is drawn up in a messy ponytail, a few loose curls sweeping over her bare shoulders. The longest are drifting over her ample breasts, which are currently being lifted to heights Sam didn't know were possible, and into the very top of her strapless corset top. It stops just over her bellybutton, where a small charm is hanging, and a few inches of the smooth, creamy skin of her taut belly are bared. Sam follows it down to the top of her low slung jeans, which are so tight Sam thinks it's a miracle she was able to get them on. The ensemble isn't complete without the tall, strappy red heels she has her feet nestled into._

 _Dean's voice drags Sam out of his stupor. He looks over slowly and blinks owlishly at his brother._

" _Huh?"_

" _I said, I don't know man. I think they're called Purple Nurples," he repeats, chuckling. Sam does his best to snap back into business mode._

" _Listen, I think maybe we should check out the professor's office," he says, and Dean and Tawny both get looks of horror on their faces._

" _Oh, no, no, no. We can't right now. We found a feisty little wildcat that we totally think is great for you," Dean says, and Tawny nods enthusiastically, leaning around him. Sam feels his pants tighten a bit when her breasts end up smooshed together as she reaches over her shoulder to pull at some blonde in a denim skirt and fishnets. Sam tries to stop Tawny, but it's too late._

" _Starla," she says, her words slurring slightly. The blonde turns, slamming back one of those so-called Purple Nurples and looking at Sam as she swallows._

" _This is my shuttle co-pilot, Major Tom," Dean says, waving vaguely at Sam with one hand as he other reaches down to squeeze Tawny's ass. Sam does his best to smile politely._

" _Major Tom – Starla."_

 _She throws an arm around Tawny's shoulders, leaning forward and holding up her empty shotglass._

" _Enchanté," she says, giggling._

" _Hi," Sam manages, looking between Tawny and Dean. All three of them look over as Starla pulls away from Tawny, pushing a hand to her mouth as she starts to gag. Sam's worried she's going to vomit for a moment, but she pulls herself together and looks between them all, grinning._

" _Sorry," she breathes. "Just tryin' to keep my liquor down."_

 _Dean and Tawny smile playfully at her, Tawny snaking an arm around her waist._

" _Hey, good news for you, man," Dean says, turning to Sam. "She's got a sister."_

 _Dean shoots him a shit-eating grin as Tawny and Starla lean against the bar, Tawny's breasts spilling up and over her_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a minute."

Dean looks at Sam, his eyebrows knit in annoyance.

"C'mon, dude. That's not how it happened."

Sam cocks an eyebrow.

"No? So you guys never drank Purple Nurples?"

"Yeah, maybe that…" Dean admits, glancing at Tawny, who's looking rather upset. "But, I don't say things like 'feisty little wildcat'"

"Yeah," Tawny cuts in, glaring at Sam. "And I don't even own a corset top, or have a pierced bellybutton." She pulls up the shirt she's wearing to show that, in fact, her bellybutton is completely piercing free.

" _And,_ " she adds, shoving the material back down roughly. "my boobs were _not_ assisted by anything more than Victoria's Secret, okay?"

"Okay, so what really did happen, Dean?" Sam snaps. Dean looks at Bobby.

"Well, first of all, your daughter wasn't dressed like a tramp. She actually looked quite classy. She'd been in the library most of the afternoon, looking through the Anthropology and Folklore section. We were talking about local ghost stories she'd found."

" _Here's to –" Tawny starts, holding up a shot glass. Dean raises his own, tapping it lightly against hers._

" _Here's to us," he toasts, raising the glass to his lips and downing the sweet, purple liquid. He takes a moment to look at Tawny, wondering how he got so damn lucky. Sure, he loves her in a pair of wash-worn jeans and one of his t-shirts, but right now she looks stunning. The black dress she's wearing is simple, but it brings out her every curve. Dean's eyes slide down her body, pausing briefly at the modest amount of cleavage peeking out from behind the V-cut in the material, her full chest tapering off to her slim belly. He can see the shadows of her hip bones in the dark material hugging them, and his eyes travel lower, over her bare legs, finally coming to rest on the simple black peep-toe pumps she's wearing. She sets her empty shot glass on the bar and his eyes bounce back up to her face, something in his chest fluttering when he sees her smile._

" _My God, you are_ attractive _," she murmurs, stepping closer to him. Dean brings a hand up to gently pull at a curl framing her face, watching it as it springs up lightly when he lets go._

" _Thanks. But no time for that now, sweetheart. You need to tell me about this urban legend you found," Dean says, wrapping an arm around her waist, tugging her flush against his chest. "Please, Tawny. Lives are at stake."_

 _Tawny blinks slowly and shakes her head lightly, lifting a hand up to run against his stubble-rough jaw. "I-I'm sorry," she apologizes softly, her hand drifting to the back of his head, gently massaging the back of his neck with her fingertips. "I just – I can't even concentrate. It's like staring…" She moves her hand up a bit to tangle her fingers in the short hair at the back of his head and gently guide his face towards hers. "Into the sun," she finally murmurs, her breath ghosting across his mouth._

 _Dean leans in the last millimeter, capturing her lips with his. His tongue has just skimmed her bottom lip when the grating sound of Sam's voice fills his ears._

" _Dean, Tawny,_ what _do you think you're doing?"_

 _Dean pulls away, rolling his lips between his teeth before turning to look at Sam. He opens his mouth to speak, his lips sticky with remnants of Tawny's sheer lip gloss. Sam is looking at him, holding his jacket over one shoulder with a hooked finger, his lips pursed in obvious annoyance._

" _Sam, please," he says, running his thumb over his lips before licking them, the sweetness of the gloss dancing over his tongue. "If you wouldn't mind, just give us five minutes here."_

" _Dean, this is a very serious investigation," Sam snaps. "We don't have time for any of your blah blah blah-blah. Blah blah blah-blah. Blah blah-blah-blah blah!"_

 _Dean shakes his head, turning back to Tawny and fully tuning Sam out as he leans down and once again slots his mouth against hers, the flat of his tongue pressing against her own._

"Right!" Sam says, leaning forward and looking at Dean. "And _that's_ how it really happened."

Dean shrugs, glancing at Tawny, who rolls her eyes in return. She's not even going to bother telling her own version of the story. Neither of them were completely right: Tawny really _had_ gone to the library earlier that afternoon, and when she got to the Campus Pub that evening, Sam really _was_ talking to Curtis and Jen, so she walked over to Dean, who really _was_ leaning against the bar with a beer. She'd asked the bartender what his specialty was and when the kid, who Tawny thought looked like he had more experience drinking than serving, suggested a Purple Nurple, Tawny thought she'd try one out. She and Dean each had a few, Tawny telling Dean about the suicide-ghost legend. Sam came over shortly afterward, happening to catch them when Dean had leaned in for a mostly innocent open-mouthed kiss. In his defense, there wasn't even tongue. But Sam tisked them, slightly annoyed as they left the bar.

"I don't sound like that, Dean!" Sam says.

"That's what you sound like to me," Dean retaliates, looking at Bobby.

"Okay," Bobby says, turning slightly so that he can look between the three of them comfortably. "What's going on with the three of you?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," Sam says, and Bobby looks at Tawny, his eyebrows raised.

"Sam's right, dad. It's nothing," she says, waving her hand.

"Oh, come on. Just last week you and Dean were practically doing the dirty deed on the kitchen table, and now he's sleeping on the couch," Bobby says, and Tawny stares at him with an eyebrow poked up curiously.

"How'd you know-" she starts, but Bobby shakes his head.

"There are blankets on the sofa but his pillow's in the bed, and I sure as hell know you ain't the one on the sofa. Your momma used to steal my pillow, too, when we had fights and she kicked me outta bed. It's nothing new to me," he says, turning to Dean and saying almost as an afterthought, "Get used to it. She's _just_ like her mother."

Tawny feels her chest tighten at the mention of Karen, but Bobby doesn't leave much time for her to ponder it before turning to Sam and Dean.

"And you two – you're bickering like an old married couple."

"No," Dean says, glaring over at Sam. "See – married couples can get divorced. Me and him? We're like, uh, Siamese twins."

He stands, walking past them and over to the small kitchen.

"It's 'Conjoined Twins'," Sam corrects obnoxiously.

"See what I mean?" Dean points out, turning to Bobby.

"Look, it—" Sam starts, glaring over at Dean before turning back to Bobby. "We've just been on the road for too long, tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it," Sam says, trying to be reassuring. Bobby nods, but then looks at Tawny.

"Okay, what about you and Dean? You two been on the road too long, tight quarters, all that?" Bobby asks, and Tawny wonders for a moment if he's suggesting their relationship has taken a bad turn. She's slightly offended, but at the same time relieved to hear that Bobby seems genuinely concerned that they might have hit a serious wall.

"No, no, no," Tawny bolsters, setting a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Dean and I are fine. You know how he is – protective, somewhat overbearing. He's Dean. He gets on everyone's nerves." As if to prove she's telling the truth, Tawny stands and walks over to where Dean's hovering over the table, shuffling papers and books around into semi-organized piles. She touches his forearm, pushing up to her tip-toes when he looks over and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He nudges his lips over, his lips closing over her bottom one to extend the kiss. When Tawny pulls away her cheeks are slightly flushed, and she turns, smiling at Bobby.

"See? We're fine."

Bobby nods slowly, turning back to Sam when he continues to tell Bobby his version of the story. Dean wraps an arm around Tawny's waist squeezing lightly as they walk back over to the beds. Sam tells Bobby about Tawny heading back to the motel while he and Dean went to the professor's office, talked to the janitor, and, naturally, Dean eating an entire dish of caramels. Despite Dean's insistence to the contrary, Tawny has a sneaking suspicion Sam's actually pretty accurate on that aspect of his account. Dean cuts in and tells Bobby about coming back to the hotel to find

 _Tawny is wrapped in one of the motel's threadbare towels, another one in her hands as she rubs at her clean, wet hair in an attempt to get it dry._

" _Find anything?" she asks, walking over to them and tilting her head, squeezing the dripping roots with the towel. Sam shakes his head as Dean walks in behind him._

" _Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure," he answers._

" _Yeah, and that room 669's a load of crap," Dean adds as he sets down a case that Tawny assumes is supposed to go with their costumes, which barely qualify in her opinion. He turns, grabbing a beer out of the fridge as Sam pulls off his jacket._

" _So, what d'you guys think? The professor's just a jumper? Legend's just a legend?" she asks, standing behind Dean and dropping the wet towel in her hand over the back of a chair. She leans against the table, the curve of her rear settling on the edge of it. The shift causes her towel to rise up almost obscenely high and Dean smirks, knowing she leaves it just to tease him. He sets one of the beers down on the table in front of Sam, holding out the one in his hand for Tawny. She shakes her head and he closes the fridge door._

" _I don't know," Dean answers, popping the cap off of the bottle and walking over towards her, unable to help glancing down where the short side of the towel has fallen open to reveal the curve of her hip, the bone jutting out. Dean feels a stir in his groin when he sees the thumb shaped bruise high on her hip bone, knowing that there are four more a few inches around on the cheek of her ass, with a matching set on her other hip and cheek. He walks over to her slowly, lowering the cold glass of the bottle until it brushes against the exposed skin. Tawny shivers lightly._

" _The janitor mentioned he saw the professor take a girl up to his office – " he continues, bringing a hand up to brush a few damp strands over her shoulder. "That's pretty weird." Tawny shivers again and Dean smiles down at her, shrugging off his own jacket, then his button-up. He drapes it over Tawny's shoulders and she immediately slips her arms into the sleeves, pulling it closed around her. He wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her to the counter and pulling her into his chest, where she melts in and sighs contentedly. Dean looks over to see Sam watching them, a look on his face Dean's never really seen before._

" _Yeah," Sam finally agrees, tearing his eyes away and looking at his laptop._

" _We oughta check out the history of the building. See if any co-ed ganked herself there," Dean says, straightening and setting his beer down. He keeps an arm firmly around Tawny's waist, gently pulling her into the bathroom. He tugs at her towel, grinning when it drops to the ground. He groans softly when she leans against the counter, letting the shirt fall open. He looks over the pale expanse of her stomach, smiling slyly when he sees the dark purple marks his teeth made on her breasts, and his cock starts to fill. He saunters over to her, one hand tangling in her still-damp hair, the other sliding down to grasp her hip, his fingers digging into the bruises he left, making her gasp and arch into his touch. He's a breath away from her lips when he hears Sam's voice._

" _Dude, were you on my computer?"_

 _Dean groans, squeezing at Tawny's hip again and dropping his forehead down to hers. She shoves at his chest and he goes over to the open door, hiding his now-raging hard-on behind it._

" _No," he says, trying to keep his voice even._

" _Oh, really," Sam says, looking at him. "'Cause it's frozen now, on – on ."_

 _Dean shifts, his hard length pressing painfully up against the back of his zipper, and he turns, walking back into the bathroom. Tawny's still leaning against the counter, one hand over her mouth as she snickers._

" _Dean! Would you just – don't touch my stuff anymore, okay?"_

 _Dean rolls his eyes, leaning back out of the bathroom and glaring at Sam. The way his cock is practically drooling pre-come into his boxers and the head is rubbing against the rough cotton is starting to get really uncomfortable, and all he can think about is sinking into Tawny's tight, wet heat. He feels another dribble of pre-come and he grits his teeth._

" _Why don't you control your OCD?" he grinds out, narrowing his glare. He ignores Sam's look of shock and slams the door, pushing in the lock before walking briskly over to Tawny and smashing his lips against hers. She moans into his mouth and he snakes his tongue out, running it over her top teeth as his shaking hands fumble with the button of his jeans. Tawny's small hands let go of the bunches of his t-shirt they're fisted around and she slides them down his chest, gently pushing his hands out of the way to easily undo the button and lower the zipper. Dean can't help but pull away and sigh in relief as his hard cock falls from where it's pressed against his hip, tenting out the front of his boxers. Tawny's mouth quickly attaches to the underside of his jaw, nipping at the stubbled flesh._

" _Want me to take care'a that?" Tawny murmurs against his throat before her teeth scrape over his pulse point. Dean isn't able to get out more than a strangled moan, so Tawny smirks and drops to her knees, using her discarded towel as a kneeling pad. She tugs at his jeans and boxers, letting them pool around the top of his boots as she swallows him down without preamble. Dean cries out, his hands flying to the edge of the counter and all he can do is hold on with a white-knuckled grip as Tawny begins to bob her head, her tongue flicking over his slit on every backstroke._

"Dean!"

Tawny stares in shock at him as he almost recounts everything she did in the bathroom in painful detail. He looks at her, his eyes wide.

"Oh, shit," he says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as a blush creeps up his neck to settle high on his cheekbones. Tawny can't help but notice that it brings out his freckles. Tawny looks over at Bobby, who looks like he's going to vomit.

"Sorry," Dean mutters. Thankfully Bobby waves him off after a moment, smiling sheepishly.

"It's okay, son. We've all got sex lives," he says. "Why her momma could do this thing with her tongue where –" he says, but Tawny bolts over and claps a hand over his mouth.

"Daddy, if you finish that statement, I swear to _God_ I'm going to tell him about your secret stash," she hisses, narrowing her eyes. Bobby nods, chuckling from behind her hand.

"So, did you dig up anything about the building?" Bobby asks, obediently changing the subject. "Or on the suicidal co-ed?"

Sam shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck. "No. History's clean."

"Then it's not a haunting," Bobby says, and Tawny looks at him.

"Maybe not," she says, looking at Dean.

"To tell you the truth, we're not really sure," he says, rubbing his hands together.

"What d'you mean, you're not sure?" Bobby asks, and Dean and Tawny look at each other again. Tawny turns to her father.

"Well, it's weird," she says, raising her eyebrows. Bobby stares at her.

"What's weird?"

"This next part, we, uh," Dean cuts in, walking over to Tawny and resting a hand on her lower back. "We didn't see it happen ourselves, exactly, but… it's pretty friggin' weird, even for us."

* * *

"Aliens?"

"Yeah."

" _Aliens_?"

"Yeap." Tawny lets her lips pop on the word, dropping onto the foot of Sam's bed.

"Even if they _are_ real, they're sure as hell not coming to Earth and swiping people," Bobby says, and Dean scrunches up his shoulders.

"Hey, believe me, we know," Dean says.

"My whole life, I've never found evidence of an honest-to-God abduction. It's all just cranks and pranks," Bobby says, looking between the three of them.

"Yeah, that's what we thought," Sam cute in, looking over at Bobby. "But… we figured we'd at least talk to the guy."

" _Hey, you oughta give those Purple Nurples a shot."_

 _Tawny nudges Dean's shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him. Thankfully, he shuts up, looking up at Sam with a guilty grin. Sam clears his throat, looking down at Curtis._

" _So, what happened, Curtis?" he sighs._

 _Curtis looks up from his empty shot glass and Sam notices how red his eyes are. The previously confident jock shrugs pathetically._

" _You won't believe me. Nobody does."_

" _Give us a chance," Tawny gently urges, and Sam looks over at her. Even with her usual lack of people skills, she still manages to soothe people into confession. Sam thinks for a moment that she would make a great cop._

" _I do_ not _want this in the papers," he says, pointing at Sam with the shot glass still clutched in his palm. Tawny reaches out, putting a hand on his forearm and tilting her head so her hair falls in a long dark curtain over her arm._

" _It'll be off the record, don't worry," she says, rubbing his arm before letting go. He slowly sets the shot glass down and stares at it for a second before looking back up at Tawny._

" _I, uh… I blacked out and… I lost time, and when I woke up, I don't know where I was," he pauses, looking back down. Sam looks at Tawny, his eyebrows raised. She is_ way _better at this than he's ever given her credit for. He makes a mental note to tell her later on._

" _Then what?" she presses gently, leaning forward against the table._

" _They did tests on me," he answers, his voice cracking. He won't look at her. "And, uh…"_

 _He picks up his second shot and slams it back, still not meeting Tawny's gaze._

" _They, uh… They probed me."_

 _Sam has to try hard to bite back his laugh, turning his head and scratching at the back of it to hide the smirk that turns his lips._

" _They probed you?" Dean asks, staring at Curtis in disbelief._

" _Yeah, they probed me. Again and a-again, and – and again."_

 _He picks up the last shot, gulping it down quickly before continuing._

" _And again and again and again and then one more time," he says, looking back up at Tawny._

" _Yikes," Dean lets out, and Sam almost smirks when Tawny turns and shoots him a look._

" _And that's not even the worst of it," Curtis plows on, looking at Tawny._

" _How could it get any worse? Some alien made you his bitch."_

 _This time Tawny turns around completely, her body twisting at her hips, to glare at him full-faced, and Dean's smile fades into the look he always used to get when their father caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to. Tawny turns back after a second, placing her hand on Curtis' arm again._

" _It's okay. Go ahead," she says softly. Curtis nods._

" _They… they made me… slow dance!"_

"You guys are exaggerating again, aren't you?" Bobby asks, looking down at all three of them lined up at the foot of Sam's bed, Tawny squished between him and Dean.

"No!" they all say at the same time, and Bobby raises an eyebrow.

"Hand to God, dad," Tawny adds, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Then this frat boy's just nuts," he says and Dean glances at Tawny before looking up at Bobby.

"We're not so sure."

" _I'm telling you, Dean. That was made by some kind of jet engine," Sam says, shifting his weight. Dean looks at the massive burn on the ground before turning to Tawny. He can see little puffs of steam whenever she breathes and the light drizzle is making little droplets form in her hair and Dean suddenly decides that winter looks good on her. She shivers slightly, digging her hands deeper into her jacket pockets, and Dean tugs her to his chest. She sighs at the shared warmth._

" _What, you mean some saucer-shaped jet engine?" he asks incredulously, leaning down to press his nose and mouth against the crown of Tawny's head._

" _Well, what else could it be?" Sam asks, and Dean looks at him, inhaling deeply. The scent of Tawny's shampoo, some coconut-mango tropical something or other, fills his nostrils and he resists the urge to close his eyes and sigh. It's the same shampoo she's been using since she hit puberty and it's one of Dean's greatest, and most secret, addictions._

" _What the hell?" he says, shaking his head as he pulls away. Tawny sighs again, her head resting on his collar bone and Sam shrugs._

" _I don't know," he says pathetically._

" _No, seriously, dude – what the hell?" he repeats, and Tawny pulls away slightly._

" _I don't know," Sam says a little louder. "I mean, first the haunting, now this? With the timing alone, there's gotta be some connection here."_

" _What, you mean between the Angry Spirit and the sexed-up ET?" Tawny asks bluntly, pulling out of Dean's embrace to look up at Sam. "C'mon, Sam. What could the connection_ possibly _be?"_

"But what could we do? So we just kept on digging."

" _So, you and this guy, Curtis – you were in the same house?"_

 _The kid looks at Sam and nods before turn back to eye Tawny in a way that makes Dean wanna wring his skinny nerd neck._

" _You heard what happened to him, right?" Tawny asks, and he nods._

" _Yeah, he says it was the aliens, but, you know, whatever."_

" _Look, man, I -" Sam starts, moving towards him. His eyes get misty and he looks away. "I know this all has to be so hard."_

" _Um, not so much," the kid says, shaking his head and looking at Tawny again._

" _But I want you to know…" Sam barrels on, stepping right up to him. "I'm here for you. You brave little soldier. I acknowledge your pain."_

 _The kid looks nervously between him and Tawny, his eyes going wide when Sam says "C'mere" and grabs him, pulling him into a forced embrace._

" _You're too precious for this world."_

"I never said that!" Sam snaps, glaring at Dean over Tawny's head.

"You're always saying pansy stuff like that," Dean replies, scoffing. Tawny rolls her eyes and looks straight at Bobby, her eyebrows raised.

"Save me," she whispers, folding her arms on her lap and leaning forward to put her head in her hands. Dean nudges her shoulder playfully, but she doesn't look up at him, so he continues.

" _Well, um…" the kid says awkwardly. "Yeah, uh… thanks…" he pats Sam's side lightly. "Thanks for the hug, but, uh, I'm okay." Sam pulls away and claps him on the shoulder a few times._

" _To tell you the truth, whatever happened to Curtis, he had it coming."_

" _Why is that?" Dean asks, his curiosity genuine. Dean can't help but glance towards Tawny when she shifts her weight and sweeps her hair over her shoulder, the wind picking up that sweet scent and carrying it over to Dean._

" _He's our pledge master," the kid says, looking between the three of them. "Put us through hell this semester and got off on it. So now he knows how we feel."_

 _Dean hums in response and Sam looks over at him pathetically. Tawny notices the look, too, because she slides her arm under his, stepping close to him and hugging him._

" _It's okay," she reassures, rubbing his back. They make it back to the motel in fifteen minutes or so, Tawny leaning comfortably into his side, her hand warm where it's resting just inside his thigh. He grabs her hand as soon as they're outside in the parking lot, threading his fingers with hers and tucking them into his pocket._

" _Still doesn't make a lick'a sense," he ponders out loud when they've stepped into the motel room. Tawny pulls her hand from his and shrugs out of her jacket, pulling her damp shirt off and heading over to where her duffle is laying at the foot of their bed._

" _But, hey," he adds, watching as she bends over and her jeans ride low. He swallows thickly before pulling off his own jacket. "At least there's one connection."_

" _Between what?" Sam asks as he makes his way to his own bed._

" _The victims," Dean clarifies, tossing his jacket onto the couch before sinking into a chair. "The professor and the frat guy. They're both dicks."_

 _Dean looks over at Tawny again, who's now crouching, rummaging around in her duffle with a frown on her face._

" _That's a connection?" Sam asks doubtfully._

" _You got anything better to go on, I'd love to hear it," Dean replies, looking at Sam expectantly. Sam picks up the bag where he normally keeps his laptop, then looks around for a second._

" _Where's my laptop?" Sam asks, tossing the comforter on his bed around. Dean ignores him and continues. "I mean, think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl. A pledge master gets hazed."_

" _I left it in here," Sam says, holding up the bag._

" _You obviously didn't," Dean says, glancing at Tawny. Sam walks over to his and Tawny's bed, tossing around pillows and lifting the sheets._

" _I mean, these punishments, they're almost poetic," Dean continues, adding, "actually, they'd be more like a limerick, but still – "_

" _Okay, hilarious. Ha ha. Where'd you hide it?" Sam demands, walking over to Dean._

" _What, your computer?" Dean asks, scrunching his eyebrows together._

" _Yeah, where'd you hide it?" Sam repeats, but before Dean can toss him a sarcastic answer, there's a loud bout of clattering as Tawny turns her duffle upside down, shaking all of its contents onto the floor._

" _Babe, what are you_ doing _?" he asks, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees._

" _Dean, where are all my underwear?" she asks, turning to look at him expectantly. He looks between Sam and Tawny, dumbstruck. He lets out a small whine, shrugging. Tawny starts to turn away, but her eyes stop and narrow when they get to his jacket. She stands, walking over to it and reaching for the pocket. Dean sees a flash of lime green, but before he can do anything her hand closes on it and she yanks a thong out of the pocket._

" _Really, Dean?" she says through clenched teeth. Dean shakes his head, a defense on his lips when she marches over to him, one hand on her hip._

" _Get up," she says, and he looks at the lacy garment clutched in her fist before looking back up at her._

" _Tawny, I swear – " he starts, but she grabs at his collar, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt, protesting the entire way. She crowds into his space, digging into the pockets of his jeans. He groans softly when she digs into the right front pocket, her hand swiping past his newly-interested dick, but she only glares up at him._

" _Don't you dare," she practically growls, like he can help it. He does his best to stand still as she digs into all of his other pockets, her jaw clenching when she finds two more pair of underwear. By this point Dean's completely dumbstruck, his eyes wide as he fumbles over words to explain that he has absolutely no clue why they were in his pocket to begin with, but she shushes him._

" _Where are the rest of them, Dean?" she demands, and he shrugs. She rolls her eyes, stomping off and grabbing his duffle. She dumps the contents of it onto his bed, brightly colored thongs, boyshorts, and bikini cut pieces of fabric falling out._

" _Not funny, Dean," she says, glaring at him. He's at a complete loss for words, unable to say anything as she stalks over to the linen closet by the bathroom, pulling out a spare blanket and carrying it over to him. She shoves it roughly against his chest and points at the couch._

" _You're gonna sleep there until you grow the fuck up, Dean Winchester," she says, and he and Sam watch wide-eyed as she grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of orange panties from the pile on the bed and walks over to the bathroom._

" _And clean that up," she says, pointing towards the clothes scattered across their side of the room before slamming the door shut behind her._

"Did you take his computer and her underwear?" Bobby asks, looking at Dean. Tawny rolls her eyes from across the table when he lets out an offended "No."

"Then who did, Dean? The friggin' Easter Bunny?" she spits, taking a long pull from the beer she'd dug out of the fridge around the time Dean was telling Bobby about Sam's little break-down.

"Maybe you did by accident, huh? Ever think of that?" he says, and Tawny laughs sarcastically.

"Dean, I think I know the difference between boxers and a _bra_ ," she says, narrowing her eyes at him. He raises an eyebrow, obviously stumped, and Tawny smirks triumphantly, raising the beer bottle back to her lips.

"Okay, you two. Why don't you just tell me what happened next," Bobby says.

"There was one more victim," Tawny says, licking her lips, and Sam agrees.

"Now, we didn't see this one ourselves, either. We kinda put it together from the evidence. But, this guy – he was a research scientist. Animal testing," Sam explains.

"Yeah, ya know – a dick. Which fits the pattern," Dean adds, glancing at Tawny, which feels a stirring in her belly at the way his eyes flit over her bare legs, which are propped up against the edge of the table. She lowers the beer bottle from her lips, licking them and looking away feeling almost embarrassed.

 _Tawny handed her flashlight to Dean, thrusting it almost angrily at him before digging in her pocket and pulling out a knife, unfolding the blade as she crouched and slid it in the crack under the window. Dean watched as she expertly undid the lock, an aroused sort of pride billowing in his chest. He remembered teaching her that, remembered how, at six, she'd cried furiously when she didn't get it the first few times. He'd told her that they could take a break, try again tomorrow, but she stuck her chin out defensively, her large brown eyes sparkling with tears, and told him that she would keep trying until she got it. He supposed that kind of persistence was something that she never quite grew out of._

"Cops didn't release the cause of death becausethey had no clue what the cause was."

"So we checked it out ourselves."

 _Dean hears a light click before Tawny closes the knife and slips it back into her pocket before pulling the window up and sliding her body through it. Dean watches Sam help lower her in, slightly reproachful that his hands are so close to the spots where Dean's marks are just under the layers of clothing. He snaps out of it when Sam drops through the window and follows him. Tawny is already at a filing cabinet in the corner picking the lock on it. She smiles briefly as the lock clicks open and she slides the drawer out easily. She thumbs through files, quickly finding the one she wants. She pulls it out with one hand, letting it fall open, and Dean watches as she skims it, clicking her tongue against her teeth softly as she reads. Finally she pauses and looks up._

" _106," she tells Dean, who turns and quickly pulls open that door on the body cooler. He shines the beam of his flashlight in, raising his eyebrows when he sees the small amount of body left._

" _Well, this oughta be quick."_

 _He pulls the table out as Tawny and Sam walk over and all three of them look at the blood soaked sheet covering the remains warily. Dean finally gets up the stomach to grab it, pulling it off. They all groan when they see that under the sheet is only an arm, a leg, and… well, Dean's not exactly sure_ what _that thing next to the leg is, but he knows he's going to be ordering his burgers a bit more on the well-done side for a while._

" _Okay, that is just nasty," he says, looking up at Tawny. He's mildly surprised to see she's slightly green, staring at the remains with wide eyes._

" _Uh, yeah," Sam agrees, and Dean looks over to see he's got a hand over his mouth. "Mutilated? Looks to me like something was hungry."_

" _They identify him yet?" Dean asks, and Tawny seems to break out of her stupor long enough to tell him he's a research scientist at the college. Or he was._

" _Guess where his office was," Sam says, glancing at the file Tawny left open next to the box of remains. Dean hums in response as Sam leans closer to the meaty bits._

" _Crawford Hall. Same as the professor."_

" _That's right where the frat boy had his close encounter," Dean says, looking over at Tawny, who's back to looking at the remains like she know the guy personally. Dean is slightly unnerved at the expression on her face._

" _Hey, grab me that thing, would you?" Sam says, pointing at a magnifying glass on a stick. Dean grabs it, pulling it over to Sam, who tugs it over a portion of the unidentified piece._

" _What is it?" Dean asks, leaning in._

" _Looks like a… belly scale?"_

" _A belly scale? From what?"_

" _Uh… an alligator?"_

 _Dean pauses and looks at Tawny, who's now looking at him, curiosity now mingled with that other emotion Dean doesn't quite recognize._

" _An alligator in the sewer," she says, looking from Dean to Sam._

" _Come on," Dean says doubtfully. Sam straightens._

" _What? Well, Dean, it's a classic urban legend. A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels."_

" _Yeah, but no one's ever really found one," Dean points out, glancing between Sam and Tawny. "They're not real."_

" _Well, neither's alien abduction, but something chomped on this guy."_

" _This couldn't get any weirder."_

" _Maybe dad can help," Tawny offers suddenly. Sam and Dean look at her. "What? Maybe he's run into something like this before."_

 _Before he can help himself, Dean says very sarcastically "Oh, I'm sure he has. Just your typical haunted campus, alien abduction, alligator-in-the-sewer gig." He regrets it immediately, especially after Tawny's expression is more hurt than angry. He quickly mumbles an apology, but Tawny turns away and Dean can't help but see that she wipes away a tear._

* * *

"When I got back to the room, these two morons were rolling around on the bed, fighting over Sam's money. You got here like an hour later," Tawny says, downing the rest of her beer. She sets it down, a content warmth settling in her chest. She doesn't know if it's from the alcohol or the fact that she suddenly can't get the thought of what she and Dean were doing in the bathroom the other night.

"Ya know, I'm surprised at the three'a you," Bobby says, looking down at them like he did when they were kids and they got into trouble. "I really am."

"Sam, first off, Dean did not steal your computer," he continues, looking at Tawny. "And sugarbee, he didn't steal your underwear."

They both start to protest at the same time, but Bobby holds up a hand, shushing them before turning to Dean.

"And Dean, Sam did not touch your car. And if you all'd bothered to pull your heads outta your asses, it all woulda been pretty clear."

"What?" Tawny says, not at all bothered by her father's harsh tone.

"What you're dealin' with."

Tawny looks between Sam and Dean, doing her best to put the pieces together, but she comes up with nothing.

"I got nothin'," Dean says, and Sam adds a "Me neither" just before Tawny blurts out "Drawin' a blank". Bobby looks between them, amusement and disappointment playing on his rough features.

"You got a trickster on your hands," he says, looking at them all like they're idiots. Dean smirks and snaps his fingers.

"That's what I thought," he says, and Tawny and Sam both turn to look at him.

"No, you did not," they both say at the same time.

"I gotta tell you," Bobby says, ignoring them. "You guys were the biggest clue."

Tawny looks at him, confused. "What d'you mean?"

"These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathin', and it's got you three so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight."

"The laptop."

"The tires."

"My friggin' _underwear_."

* * *

"I'm sorry for accusing you of stealing my underwear."

Tawny looks up at Dean from where she's sitting against his chest on the hood of the Impala. They'd gotten back to Bobby's early that morning and spent the day just hanging out. Tawny had made dinner, then, just before sunset, Dean had told Bobby he was kidnapping her and they drove out to an old park where they used to play as kids. They'd climbed up on the hood, leaning against the windshield and watched the sun go down. They'd been laying there for God knows how long, alternatively watching the stars twinkle down and watching each other. Now, as Tawny snuggles deeper against Dean's chest under his jacket, she wonders how she go so damn lucky.

"'s okay," he murmurs against her forehead. "I'm sorry for being a sarcastic asshole."

Tawny smiles, shifting so she can throw a leg over one of his and move in closer.

"I know. But it's just who you are," she quips. The hand he has resting on hers quickly moves down and finds her ticklish spot, poking at it enough to make her flinch.

"Did you just call me a sarcastic asshole?" he says, feigning offense. Tawny puts on a face, mimicking Sam.

"Well, technically, no. I just agreed with you," she says, laughing at the end. She squeals when Dean turns so his body's over hers. He lifts a hand to cup her neck and he kisses her gently before pulling away to rest his forehead against hers.

"Ah. But I'm _your_ sarcastic asshole. Don't forget that."

For some reason Tawny's stomach flips and she has the sudden need to feel him against her, skin on skin, filling her with his hot release.

"Let's get in the car," she breathes, and Dean nods, sitting up and pulling her with him. She can't explain it, but right now she can't get close enough to him fast enough. She's barely got her feet on the ground when she growls out "Fuck it" and grabs Dean by the collar. When her lips smash against his it's sloppy and wet and perfect. Their teeth smack together, just this side of painful, and Tawny arches her back, rolling her hips against his. Dean moans into her mouth and she can feel him filling against her, his cock soon pressing hard against his jeans. He pulls away after a few minutes, his hands dropping to her rear.

"What d'you want, baby?" he asks, squeezing her ass-cheeks in his palms. Tawny bucks against him, nipping at his lower lip before answering.

"I want you to bend me over the hood and fuck me, Dean."

She's not entirely sure why she's suddenly so bold, but Dean seems to like it as he pulls her impossibly closer, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass as he grinds his hips against hers. He manages to shuffle them around to the front of the car, keeping his lips attached to hers the entire time, his tongue darting in and swirling around her mouth. He reluctantly pulls away when Tawny's back is pressed against the front bumper, the cold of the metal soaking through her jeans.

"Turn around," he murmurs against her mouth, and she automatically obeys, her hands making quick work of undoing the button and zipper of her jeans. Dean moans appreciatively when she pushes them down around her knees, bending at the waist to lean her hands against the hood. Tawny's eyes drift shut when she feels one gun calloused hand drift over one of her cheeks, gently squeezing before Dean bends down. He nuzzles the flesh before biting into it and sucking hard enough that Tawny feels the immediate warmth of blood being drawn to the spot. Tawny moans and pushes her hips back, feeling the warm ooze of her arousal nearly dripping out from between her legs.

"Goddammit, Dean," she breathes. "Fuck me already."

Dean lets go of the flesh in his mouth with an obscene pop, licking at the heated flesh and Tawny's about to turn around when she hears the hum of his zipper. There's a rustling of cloth and Dean's hand finds her hip, pulling her back and sliding into her without warning. It's an easy glide, both of them moaning favorably until he's buried balls-deep inside her. He pauses, his hand in a vice-grip on her hip.

Finally, blessedly, he starts moving, picking up a quick, almost brutal pace that has Tawny crying out lightly on every forward thrust as his cock-head nails her g-spot every time. It isn't long before she feels her first orgasm rip through her, making her inner walls clench and flutter around him. Dean moans, leaning forward until his chest is pressed against her back.

"Lean forward," he moans in her ear, and she does so, bending until her upper body is pressed against the cool steel. Dean's hands quickly close over hers and he's panting roughly into her ear, a small grunt escaping his throat on each snap of his hips. He's thrust into her maybe a dozen times when he grips her hands tighter.

"'m gonna come, baby," he moans, turning his head to press his lips against the curve of her neck. Tawny pushes back onto him and after only two more thrusts she feels her second orgasm rushing at her like a freight train.

"Come for me, Dean," she whimpers just as she comes hard enough to make her see stars, and she can feel his cock swell inside her just before his release paints her slick channel with creamy heat. He thrusts a few more times, his hips just sort of pitching forward erratically. They stay like they are while they catch their breath, Dean's dick eventually going soft and gently slipping out of her. He finally pulls away from her, both of them doing their best to get back into a presentable state of dress. When he's tucked back into his jeans and her shirt is straightened out, Dean pulls Tawny to him, kissing her languidly like they have no right to enjoy.

"I love you. So fuckin' much," he murmurs against her lips. "You know that right?"

Tawny looks up at him, his long eyelashes casting winged shadows across his freckled cheeks, his eyes just a strip of moss-green around large pupils that are trying to drink in as much light from the half-full moon as possible, and suddenly Tawny feels a punch of emotion so hard she can't breathe.

"I know," she manages to choke out, her arms snaking up over his shoulders and around his neck to pull him close. His hands settle low on her back, hugging her to him like he refuses to let go, and this is where Tawny wants to spend the rest of her life.

"I love you, too."


	14. A Dream is a Wish Your Heart makes

**Disclaimer** : Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 2x20: "What Is and What Should Never Be" belong to writer Raelle Tucker. The lyrics to "A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes" belong to Mack David, Al Hoffman, Jerry Livingston, and the Walt Disney Corporation.

Tawny belongs to me.

 _A dream is a wish your heart makes  
When you're fast asleep  
In dreams you lose your heartaches  
Whatever you wish for, you keep  
Have faith in your dreams and someday  
Your rainbow will come smiling through  
No matter how your heart is grieving  
If you keep on believing  
the dream that you wish will come true_

Tawny's sitting in the passenger's seat of the Impala loading bullets into her Colt's clip when she hears Dean's phone ring. She looks over as he pulls it out of his jacket pocket, one hand still on the wheel. "Yeah?" he says casually, glancing over at Tawny and shooting her a wink. She wonders how he can be so flippant after the past few weeks. Between having to tell Molly McNamara she died fifteen years ago in a crash that killed another guy and her husband was now married to some other chick, watching Sam go through yet another lover die, dealing with Dean flirting shamelessly with some movie star, and dealing with Sam and Dean willingly go to prison, Tawny could use a freaking break. But, naturally, Dean is as glib as ever as he talks to who Tawny assumes to Sam.

"You think it's for us?" Dean says, and Tawny glances over at him, scrunching her eyebrows when he shakes his head. She shrugs, looking back down.

"I don't see how. I mean, we ditched the plates, the credit cards… See? Nothin' to worry about."

Dean turns his eyes back to hers, smiling softly. She turns back to the clip in her hand, pressing one more bullet into the clip before sliding it into her gun and smacking it into place with the heel of her palm. She sets it down on the seat between them and grabs the box of bullets in her lap.

"Hey, man. Chicks dig the danger vibe."

He looks over just as she looks up at him, and he shoots her another wink. She rolls her eyes and closes the box, turning and leaning over the seat to shove it back into the duffel with all of their other weapons.

"Are you kiddin' me? How could we? You got us sifting through, like, fifty square miles of real estate here."

Tawny sighs and props an elbow up on the edge of the door, resting her head against her fist and looking over at Dean. She can't help the stirring in the pit of her stomach when she thinks about how just twenty minutes ago they were parked in some abandoned lot while she rode him eagerly. She can't help the small grin that finds its way to her lips when she thinks about the mess leaking into her panties at the moment.

"Yeah, well, we got diddly-squat. What about you?"

Tawny grabs her gun and sets it in the glovebox before sliding over close enough to feel Dean's body heat, and she can hear the quiet rumble of Sam's voice.

"A freakin' genie?" Dean suddenly blurts out, and Tawny looks up, her eyes wide. She's never heard her father talk about genies, and it makes her heart skip a beat.

"No way. You think that these suckers can really grant wishes?"

Tawny listens closely to Sam speaking, but can't pick up any words.

"My God," Dean finally says, a wistful expression on his face. "Barbara Eden was hot, wasn't she? And way hotter than that 'Bewitched' chick."

He glances over at Tawny in time to see her annoyed glare, and he clears his throat, his face hardening again.

"So, where do the djinns lair up? … Y'know, I think I saw a place a couple miles back. We're gonna go check it out."

Tawny can hear Sam start to protest, but Dean brushes it off.

"No, I'm sure it's nothing. I just wanna take a look around."

He flips his phone closed and shoves it back into his pocket before resting his arm along the top of the seat. Tawny immediately slides over and curls into his side, smiling as he kisses the top of her head before turning the car around. They drive for a few minutes in silence, the soft music combined with the slow patter of rain on the roof making Tawny's eyelids feel heavy. They finally pull up to an old abandoned warehouse and Dean lets the car idle to a stop in the parking lot. He shifts the car into shift, kissing her temple lightly.

"You can stay in the car," he murmurs, but Tawny turns her head, leaning into his palm when he immediately lifts his hand to cup her cheek.

"And have to deal with the wrath of Sam when you get into trouble? No, thanks," she says back, grinning. He returns it, leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a lazy kiss. His tongue barely breaches her mouth when she laughs and pulls away.

"Nuh uh. We have a job to do," she says, ignoring his pout to slide over and pull her gun out before pushing the door open. She steps out of the car, the heels of her boots loud against the asphalt in the otherwise quiet parking lot. She tucks the gun into the back of her jeans and straightens the back of her jacket before closing the door and circling the hood. Dean hands her a flashlight and she quickly turns it on, shining the beam towards a door that she can already see is open. They make their way over to it, Dean pushing it open slowly.

Tawny can see that at one point the building housed offices, but it was clear from the layer of dust and rat droppings that no one had worked or even been in this building for quite a few years. They make it a few dozen yards in when the hairs on the back of Tawny's neck stand up. She looks up at Dean's back to see that he's tensed up, obviously mutually aware of the presence. She sees his grip on the knife in his hand tighten a moment before he quickly turns into a hallway, ready to stab the hell out of whatever's watching them. But there's nothing there.

"Well, that was friggin' creepy," she breathes, and he hums in agreement. They slowly make their way down the hall, Tawny walking as lightly as possible, trying to keep her heavy boots from making too much noise. They make it about half way down the hall when that feeling that she's being watched comes back, and suddenly she's grabbed by the neck and thrown against the wall hard enough to knock her out cold.

* * *

Tawny wakes up hard enough that she sits up, the sheets covering her body pooling around her waist. She looks around the room frantically, sighing when she sees Dean is asleep next to her. She reaches over, gently shaking him. He mumbles in his sleep, but doesn't wake, so she shakes him a little harder. She jumps when he suddenly wakes just as violently as she did. She looks briefly at his chest, noticing that he's wearing a silver chain around it instead of his charm, and for some reason that bothers her.

"Where the hell are we?" he asks. Tawny shakes her head slowly, standing. Dean mimics her and they search the room for clothes, quickly dressing before walking out of the room. Dean peers around in the dark for a second before finding a light switch, and when he flips it on, Tawny nearly gasps. They're in a small, one bedroom apartment. She takes a step into the living room, taking in the recliner and couch and coffee table and flat screen TV complete with surround sound. Tawny wonders who plays guitar when she sees the acoustic one sitting in the corner. She walks over and reaches up with her left hand to run it along the back of the chair when a glimmer catches her eye.

The rings are actually very beautiful, for being so simple. Just a band of white gold with three diamonds lined up, sitting next to a band laid with smaller diamonds all the way around.

"Uh, Dean," she says, turning to see he's approaching a bookcase.

"I think we're married," she says quietly. When he gets closer to the bookcase, he pulls a picture off, holding it up.

"Ya think?"

Tawny walks over, taking the picture from him. She can't help the "Oh, my God" that falls from her lips as she stares down at her own smiling face. It's nothing too extravagant, just her and Dean standing in front of an altar, her in a simple strapless white gown and veil that pools on the floor, him in a tux that he has no right to look so damn good in. Tawny is surprised to see that Jo is her maid of honor, but not so much that Sam is standing next to Dean, his hair as floppy as ever and his smile wide enough to bring out those dimples Tawny won't ever get tired of seeing.

She sets the picture back up on the shelf as Dean pulls out his phone, obviously going to call Sam. As much as she wants to know what's going on, though, she can't seem to look away from the pictures on the shelves of the bookcase. There are at least a couple dozen four-by-sixes in cheap frames, all of them showing Dean and Tawny at various ages, some together and some apart. Dean's kindergarten picture, all blonde baby hair and enormous green eyes; Tawny at some school picnic when she was probably four or five, her hair in pigtails and melted Fudgesicle smeared all over her face; Dean and Tawny posing for what she assumes is his senior prom; Sam and Tawny posing for what she assumes is their own prom (if she skipped the fourth grade in this reality, too); Dean in his early 20s and a late teen Tawny standing in a garage leaned over the Impala, their teeth looking impossibly white contrasted against the oil smeared on their faces, cans of soda in their hands; two pictures in a double frame, the top one of the two of them sitting on a couch, intent looks on their faces as they stare ahead, videogame controllers in their hands, the bottom of Tawny jumping up in the air, a triumphant look on her face as Dean looks on in disappointment, but with a huge smile still present; them at a restaurant, glasses of wine in hand, Tawny showing off her engagement ring; them in the woods bundled up in thick sweaters, Dean's chin hooked on Tawny's shoulder from behind as he holds his arm out to take the picture; her lying on a beach. One thing that stays consistent is how _happy_ they both seem. Suddenly, Tawny really doesn't want to go back to their old life.

"Lawrence?"

Tawny looks over to see Dean flipping through a pile of mail and she walks over, a fluttering in her stomach when she sees 'Mr and Mrs Dean Winchester' scrawled on a brown envelope. Sure enough, though, the address is in Lawrence, Kansas.

"Dean…" she says, looking up at him with wide-eyes. "Dean, you don't think the djinn really granted a wish for us, do you?"

Dean shakes his head. "I don't know," he murmurs, walking over to look at the pictures she was just looking at. He shakes his head again, turning and looking along the other wall. He stops, his eyes going wide before he strides over to a table pushed up along the wall. He grabs a picture on it, looking at it for a second before he drops it and heads for the door.

"Dean?" she says, following him. They make their way out of the building, and Tawny hugs her chest when a cold breeze blows, making the leaves on the trees lining the street rattle. She spots the Impala across the street as Dean does and they both hurry towards it, Dean unlocking her door before going around to unlock his. Tawny doesn't ask where they're going, not because she doesn't want to know, but because she trusts him. When they pull up to the two story house, however, Tawny knows instantly where they are. It's the house he grew up in.

Dean practically sprints across the street and across the yard, pounding on the door and ringing the doorbell. Both of them look up when the porch light turns on and when the door swings open, she feels like she's been punched in the gut.

"Dean? Tawny?" Mary asks, her blue eyes looking both of them over. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

Tawny can't help the funny feeling in her chest when Mary's eyes flit down to her stomach for a second, but Tawny brushes it off when Mary leans forward, putting a hand on Dean's arm.

"I don't know," he says quietly, and Mary opens the door wider.

"Well, come in," she says, stepping back to let them in. Tawny looks around, trying to picture Sam and Dean growing up here. It's such a stark contrast to the dingy motel rooms and rent-by-the-month houses that were about one leaky faucet away from being condemned.

"Sam just called, Dean. He said you called him and sounded strange. Is everything okay with the baby?"

When Mary turns, it's just in time to see Tawny pale.

"B-baby?" she stammers, looking over at Dean, who's looking at her with wide eyes before looking back at Mary.

"Yeah, yeah. The baby's fine," Dean finally says. "Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you always tell me when you put me to bed?"

"Dean, I don't understand – "

"Just answer the question."

Tawny looks over at Dean, mildly surprised that he snapped like that at his mother. Then again, she supposed that if it had been Karen standing there, Tawny probably would have done the same thing. Tawny looks over at Mary, who has a slightly sad expression on her face.

"I told you angels were watching over you," she says, and Tawny hears Dean let out a small puff of breath before he walks over to Mary, mumbling 'I don't believe it' before hugging her tightly. She seems surprised at first, but rubs his back lightly, looking at Tawny over Dean's shoulder. Tawny can't help the tear that rolls down her cheek. She knows how much Dean missed his mom, even though he didn't say it. Growing up without a mother herself, Tawny knows how hard it was. She supposes that's why Dean is the way he is; he never had Mary to turn to, to rely on to let him rest his head on her shoulder and talk to him about the things going on in his head he could never talk to John about. He always had to ignore them, keep his chin high to prove to John he was strong enough.

"Honey, you're scaring me," Mary says softly, looking quizzically at Tawny. Dean pulls away and Tawny walks up behind him, smiling when Mary reaches out and grabs her hand. "Just tell me what's going on."

"You don't think that wishes can – can really –" Dean blurts, and Tawny nudges him with her hip. Mary looks over at her, her blue eyes full of concern.

"Dean – he had a nightmare," Tawny quickly says, wiping absently at another tear that escapes and falls down her cheek. Mary looks at her curiously, so Tawny keeps on.

"You, uh, you died when we were kids, and, uh," Tawny says, but she has to stop as a sob works its way loose. She rolls her lips between her teeth, trying as hard as she can to pull herself together. Mary lets out a small gasp and looks back up at Dean.

"Oh, sweetheart," she says softly, and Dean hugs her again.

"You're beautiful," Dean suddenly blurts out, and Tawny can't help but laugh. Mary smiles, looking at him, her confusion obvious.

"What?" she laughs, but he shakes his head, turning to look at the pictures on a bookcase behind the couch.

"Hey, uh, when I was young, was there ever a fire here?" Dean asks. Tawny follows him, her gaze falling on the closest picture, one of her and the Winchesters. She's probably sixteen or seventeen, wearing a gold and green leotard, her hair in a high ponytail, holding a bouquet of roses. Again, they all look so damn happy. Tawny notices just how much Sam looks like John and Dean like Mary. It almost takes her breath away.

"No, never," Mary answers. Tawny's eyes roam over pictures of Sam and Dean as kids, suddenly realizing how many pictures there are with her in them. She sees another from hers and Dean's wedding of her standing with Mary, arms around each other's waists, laughing about something, and another candid next to it of her pulled close to Dean, dancing to what she can only assume is their wedding song. She wonders suddenly what it was.

"I thought there was," Dean murmurs, glancing over the pictures. "I guess I was wrong."

Dean picks up a picture of John and Bobby both in softball uniforms, arms thrown over each other's shoulders.

"Dad and Bobby are on a softball team," Dean says, and Tawny grins. Another question pops into her mind; where _is_ Bobby?

"Your dad loved that stupid team," Mary says softly, and Tawny feels an icy sting in her belly. Dean looks up, his eyes wide.

"Dad's dead?" he asks, and Mary looks at him like he just asked if the Pope was Catholic. "And the thing that killed him was a…"

"A stroke. He died in his sleep. You know that," she says softly, her eyes flicking to Tawny for answers.

"That's great," Dean suddenly says, and Tawny smacks his shoulder just as Mary says "Excuse me?"

"That's great that he went peacefully," Dean quickly says, and Tawny can't help but nod after a second. "I mean, it – it sure beats the alternative."

Mary looks at him sadly before glancing at Tawny.

"Are you okay to drive home, honey?" Mary asks her, but before Tawny can answer Dean lets out a desperate "No!".

"Can we stay here? Up in my old room?" Dean asks, and Mary looks at him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because I miss the place," Dean says, and Tawny's not entirely sure he's lying. "It's okay, you go to bed, okay?"

He walks into the living room and sits down on the couch, and Tawny and Mary follow closely.

"You sure you're alright?" Mary asks, cupping his cheek.

"I think so," he answers quietly. Mary turns to Tawny, brushing a piece of hair over her shoulder.

"Need to borrow a nightgown?" she asks, and suddenly Tawny feels like she's right where she's supposed to be.

"Do you still have any of Dean's old t-shirts?" she asks, and Mary smiles.

"They're still in his dresser," Mary says quietly. She leans down and presses a kiss to Dean's forehead.

"Don't stay up too late, you two. I love you both," Mary says softly before walking out of the room. Tawny and Dean watch her go in silence, only the ticking of the clock breaking it. Tawny looks down at the coffee table, smiling when she sees yet another family photo, this one from a Christmas card when the boys were kids.

"You stayin' down here for a while?" she asks softly, looking back at Dean. He nods, holding an arm out for her. She reaches out, slipping her hand into his as she walks between the coffee table and his knees, nudging her way between his thighs. Dean wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her closer as he moves his other hand to her belly. He tugs her shirt up, kissing just below her belly button softly before nuzzling the same spot with his nose.

"You think this is for real?" Tawny asks, her hands drifting through the short hair at the back of his head. She feels him speak against her belly, the stubble along his jaw prickly against her skin.

"I don't know. I-I hope so," he says slowly, cautiously, like it's all going to fade away because he wants it so desperately to stay. She knows that's how it's always been for Dean, that just when he really wants something, when he gets something half-way decent, it gets taken away. Tawny suddenly wonders if the same will happen to her.

"You should go get some rest, baby," Dean suddenly says, sliding his hands around to squeeze her hips lightly, pressing another kiss into the flesh against her belly before tugging her shirt back down. Tawny cups his cheeks.

"You comin' too?" she asks, and Dean's smile falters momentarily.

"In a bit, baby. I'm just gonna – " he waves vaguely around the room and Tawny nods.

"'Kay. Don't be too long."

She presses a kiss to his mouth, then another to his forehead before reluctantly pulling herself out of his arms. Following the path Mary had taken, Tawny quickly makes her way to the stairs. She's climbed half of them when she realizes she has no clue which room is Dean's. She quietly makes her way down the hall, peering in the dark down the hall. The first door she passes is slightly ajar, and Tawny peeks in to see its Mary's room, so she quickly, and quietly, ducks back out. The second door is open, revealing a bathroom, which leaves two doors directly across from each other at the far end of the hall. The Metallica poster on the one to the right is a dead giveaway.

Tawny gently opens the door, flipping the light switch to have the room bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp and she smiles as she looks around the room. More posters cover the walls; Guns N' Roses, Kiss, Styx, AC/DC and more Metallica stare down at her. She can't help but giggle when she sees a poster of Joan Jett taped to the ceiling above Dean's bed. Behind it, a massive collage of pictures is arranged, four by sevens, three by fives, even a few polaroids are stuck to the wall. When Tawny moves closer, she sees that they're all of the Winchesters, some of Bobby and Tawny. She's shocked to see that even Ellen is in a few of them.

Tawny shakes her head softly, a smile playing on her lips, as she turns and walks over to the dresser. She opens a few drawers, finally finding one stuffed with t-shirts. She pulls out a tattered looking grey one and unfolds it, grinning when she sees 'Singer Auto' scrawled across the front in loopy red font. She turns it around, tears springing to her eyes when she sees 'Winchester' in the same font, only smaller, on the back, and she knows that it was once John's. She quickly strips, pulling it over her head before walking over and turning down the comforter on the futon and moves to climb in, and that's when a picture catches her eye. She's maybe four in it, clearly in Bobby's garage. The trunk of the Impala is in the picture and Sam and Dean are perched on the hood, both slightly out of focus. The focuses of the picture, though, are Tawny and John. They're both laughing and John is holding Tawny, her short legs wrapped around his broad chest, his hands holding her back. He's leaned forward slightly, letting her dangle upside down, and she's clearly having the time of her life.

Tawny reaches up and carefully pulls the picture off of the wall, laying down and turning off the light. She snuggles down into the bed, the misty silver moonlight shining in through the split making it just bright enough for her to see the picture. She smiles faintly, laying it on the pillow beside her, resting her hand next to it as she closes her eyes and lets sleep take over.

* * *

When Tawny wakes up, she instinctively stretches and reaches over, craving the warmth of Dean's body. She frowns and opens her eyes when her fingertips only find cold sheets, and she sees that the other side of the bed is still made. She can't help but smile broadly when she sees the picture still sitting on the other pillow.

Tawny slowly sits up, stretching her arms over her head before turning and glancing at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand to see it's just after eight. Tawny climbs out of bed, stopping at the dresser to pull on a pair of pajama pants before making her way out into the hallway. She stops at the bathroom before heading downstairs, looking at the pictures hung along the wall of the staircase as she goes. She smiles when she hears the sound of bacon frying and the scent hits her, making her stomach growl. When she gets into the kitchen, Mary turns, smiling at her.

"Morning, honey."

"Morning," Tawny returns, smiling back at her. She walks over next to the stove, reaching for the coffee pot. Her fingers close around the handle when she hears Mary tsk.

"Caffeine," Mary says, and Tawny looks over at her curiously.

"I thought that was a myth?"

Mary nods. "So did I, but have you seen the way your husband practically lives on the stuff? I blame myself," she says solemnly. They stare at each other for a moment before breaking out into laughter. After Tawny's laughing gives way to giggles, she turns, opening a cabinet and thankfully finding glasses. She pulls one down, walking over to the fridge and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Speaking of my husband, where'd he go?" Tawny asks absently, taking a sip. When she passed the couch on her way down, she wasn't too worried to see he wasn't on it, as the blanket that had been lying across the back of it last night is now crumpled at one end. At the same time, though, she likes knowing where he is.

"Oh, uh, he said he was going out for an hour or two, and that you shouldn't worry."

Tawny nods, setting the glass on the counter.

"You want some help?" she offers, and Mary turns, smiling at her.

"Sure."

The rest of the morning goes by quickly. Tawny questions Mary as inadvertently as possible as they wash dishes, sort, wash and fold clothes, and sweep and mop the first floor. In that time, Tawny learns that she moved here with Bobby when she was three. Her mother had been killed in a car accident a few months before that, so Bobby relocated to open a garage. He and John met when John saw the 'Help Wanted' sign in the window, and Bobby hired him as soon as he got a look at the Impala. A few years later business was booming, so Bobby made John his business partner.

Tawny started spending time at the Winchester house more and more, between school and gymnastics lessons. She was training to go to the Olympics when she landed wrong at a recital and tore her ACL. A lot of things changed for her after that; she got a job waitressing at a bar just outside of town, and Bobby fell in love with the owner, who happened to be Ellen. They got married a year after Tawny graduated high school, and now Tawny co-owns the bar with Ellen and Jo. As for Dean, he'd spent so much time hanging around the garage as a kid, Bobby gave him a job when he turned fourteen, mostly doing oil changes, tire rotations, and other simple things on weekends. He worked his way up, quickly becoming the manager. After John died, Bobby made him his partner and now they co-own the garage. By noon, Tawny's starting to wonder why she can't shake the feeling that this, like everything else good in her life, isn't going to last.

* * *

Tawny can't help but grimace as Dean takes a bite out of the BLT Mary made him.

"Mmm! This is the best sandwich _ever_!" he enthuses before glancing at Tawny. His green eyes widen and he holds it out to her, silently offering her some. Her stomach turns and she shakes her head, holding up a hand.

"Thank you," Mary calls from the kitchen. Tawny leans back in her chair, looking over to see Mary's by the sink.

"Need any help?" Tawny offers.

"No, sweetheart. Thanks."

"I tried to get ahold of Sam earlier," Dean says through a mouthful, and Tawny rolls her eyes. Some things won't ever change. "Where – where's he?"

"Uh, he'll be here soon." Tawny watches as Mary walks over and puts a bunch of fresh mint in the fridge.

"Good. I'm dying to see him," Dean says, chewing.

"Sweetie," Mary says, walking over. She sets a mug down in front of Tawny, who can tell by the scent that it's mint tea. She turns back to Dean, setting down her own mug. "Don't get me wrong, I am thrilled you guys are… hangin' out here all of a sudden, and I know Jo's running the bar this week, but, uh, shouldn't you be at work?"

"Work?" Dean asks, and Tawny nudges his calf with her bare foot.

"At the garage?" Mary continues, looking between them curiously.

"Right," Dean says, glancing over at Tawny.

"Uh, daddy gave him the week off, too, since we're so busy," Tawny says, putting a hand on Dean's forearm. He raises his eyebrows at her, but she shakes her head lightly and takes a sip of her tea. For all of Dean's skills, his inability to pretend to know what's going on surprises Tawny sometimes. He turns back to Mary, grinning.

"Good thing," he says simply, taking another monstrous bite of his sandwich. Mary rests her chin in her palm, looking at him with concern.

"Don't you feed my son?" she says softly, looking over at Tawny. Tawny grins.

"I do my best, but you know Dean. He eats like a high school football team," she says, setting her mug down. Dean looks over at her, grinning sheepishly. His eyes flicker over her head for a moment and he stands, swallowing.

"That lawn looks like it could use some mowing," Dean says, lifting the sheer curtain over the window to stare at the lawn almost longingly.

"You wanna mow the lawn?" Mary asks. She exchanges a look with Tawny before looking back over at her son.

"You kiddin' me? I'd love to mow the lawn," Dean says, smiling widely.

"Knock yourself out," Mary says, raising her eyebrows at Tawny as she picks up her mug. "You'd think you never mowed a lawn in your life."

Tawny and Mary both watch with smiles on their faces as Dean practically skips out to the garage, looking at the door once it's closed. Mary takes another sip before standing.

"Well, I need to get those sheets out of the dryer," she says, pushing her chair in. Tawny stands, too, doing the same.

"Lemme help you," she offers, but Mary shakes her head.

"No, I feel like I'm making you my slave," Mary says, laughing. "Why don't you go relax?"

Tawny, grins softly, knitting her eyebrows.

"You sure?" she asks, and Mary nods.

"Are there any beers in the fridge?" Tawny asks, and Mary tilts her head, an almost disappointed look on her face.

"No! Not for me!" Tawny quickly says, holding up her hands. The lawn mower starts up and Mary looks over her shoulder towards the window before looking back at Tawny.

"Yeah, there are a few in the back," Mary says. Tawny nods, walking over to the fridge and grabbing one.

"I'll be on the porch then," she says. When she turns back around, Mary's eyes are glistening and she has a sad smile on her face.

"You know," she says softly, walking over and brushing a strand of Tawny's hair behind her ear. "I remember when you guys were maybe ten, and you and Sammy would sit on the porch and watch Dean mow the lawn. You remember what you used to say you were doing?"

Tawny shakes her head, her forehead creasing with curiosity.

"You'd say you were watching out for him. Making sure he turned out to be a good man," Mary says, sniffling. She cups Tawny's chin softly, smiling at her as a tear rolls down her face. "Thank you for making sure he's still a good man."

Tawny smiles back, grabbing Mary's hand.

"I think you had way more to do with the man he's become than I did," Tawny says softly, her own eyes watering. Mary smiles, pulling Tawny into a quick hug before wiping her tears away.

"Go make sure he does his chores," Mary laughs before walking over to the basement door. Tawny makes her way out to the front porch, grinning at Dean as she watches him finish the last corner of the yard. He spots her when he shuts the mower off, his lips turning up in a grin when she holds the beer up. He jogs over to her, dropping down next to her and pressing a kiss against her neck as she hands him the beer. He quickly twists the cap off, taking a long pull before putting an arm over Tawny's shoulders and tugging her into his chest. She goes willingly, smiling as she drapes her own arm over his knee. Her fingers absently trace over the seam of his jeans inside his thigh.

"325 Oakdale," she says quietly. Dean presses his cheek against the top of her head.

"What?"

"It's our new address. Apparently dad bought us a house."

Dean pulls away enough to look down at her, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"You're kidding," he says, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Tawny was going to wait to tell him, but she honestly couldn't keep it in any longer. The fact that she and Dean would be choosing paint colors and picking out furniture and all of that other stuff Tawny thought that they would – c _ould –_ never have both excited and terrified her, and for some reason she needs Dean to share in it. So she smiles back at him, shaking her head before leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She lays her head on his shoulder again, sighing softly when she feels him press his cheek to the top of her head.

The just sit like that for a while, Tawny leaning against Dean's side, her fingers idly playing along the inseam of his jeans, Dean gently rubbing her upper arm while taking occasional pulls at his beer. The sound of an engine pulls Tawny's eyes towards the curb, and she sees a shiny blue Lexus pull up and there's a head of curly blonde hair in the passenger's seat.

"I don't believe it…" Dean murmurs. He and Tawny stand and Tawny watches as Sam and Jessica get out of the car, only vaguely aware that Dean is practically sprinting towards her. She lets out a startled "Oof!" when Dean grabs her in a hug, her blue eyes flying over to Tawny. Tawny knows she's grinning like an idiot, but she can't help it. The thought of Sam and Jessica together has always been one that's warmed her heart. Sam smiles tensely at her over the roof of the car.

"Good to see you, too, Dean," Jessica says, the same tense smile on her face. Dean chuckles but doesn't let go, and Jessica's face contorts. "Can't breathe."

Dean pulls away and Jessica looks over at Tawny hesitantly.

"I promise not to be as, uh, enthusiastic as my idiot husband," Tawny says, holding her arms out. Jessica's mouth turns up in a more genuine smile and she hugs Tawny. When they pull away, Dean's beaming at Sam.

"Look at'cha. You're with Jessica. That's – I don't believe it."

"Yeah," Sam says, confused. He looks at Tawny but doesn't make a move to come towards her at all. It leaves a strange, unsettled feeling in her stomach. Finally, after a few seconds of watching her, he leans in and presses a dry, chaste kiss to her cheek. "'s good to see you, Tawny," he murmurs before straightening again, and Tawny sees a look in his eyes she doesn't recognize. Sadness mingled with something else.

"So," Dean says, his hand settling on Tawny's lower back and snapping her out of her analysis of Sam's apparent emotions. "Where'd you guys come from?"

"We just flew in," Sam says, once again confused. "From California."

"California. Stanford, huh? Law school, I bet," Dean says heartily. A little _too_ heartily. Tawny has to resist the urge to smack him, and instead looks at Sam, a smile on her face.

"He's just excited to see his little brother," Tawny says, trying her best to keep Dean from crashing and burning. He glances over at her, pressing a kiss to her temple as he pulls her to his side. Sam looks between them before glancing down at the half empty beer bottle hanging loosely in the hand not currently resting along the top of Tawny's jeans.

"I see you started off mom's birthday with a bang, as usual," Sam says, most likely meaning for his words to come off as light and playful, but Tawny hears them as callous and hurtful.

"Wait – wait mom's birthday? That's today?" Dean says, the smirk on his face hardly even faltering. Sam looks at him like he's just asked what year it is.

"Yeah, yeah, Dean, that's today. That's why we're _here_ ," Sam answers. Knowing Dean will thank her later, Tawny smiles broadly, grabbing Sam's bicep.

"He's kidding, Sam. He's been talking about this for days," she says, and Sam nods but continues to look at Dean, slightly concerned. "As for the beer," she continues, dropping her hand from his arm "he deserves it for mowing your mom's lawn."

Sam nods slowly, his eyes moving over to meet hers. "Are we still carpooling to dinner?" he asks, his tone clipped and overly polite. Tawny nods, glancing at Dean over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess so," she answers when Dean shrugs one shoulder. "What time do you want us to be here?"

"The reservation's at eight, so how about seven-thirty?" he says, and Tawny nods. Sam turns to walk away, but Tawny grabs his arm, gently pulling him into a hug. He doesn't return it at first, so Tawny turns her head so her mouth is by his ear.

"I'm really happy for you and Jessica, Sammy," she whispers, and his arms finally snake around her waist, hugging her tightly, yet briefly before pulling away. She can't help but notice that his jaw is tense, like it always is when he's trying hard to conceal his emotions. Tawny can't help but wonder exactly why he thinks he needs to hide from her.

* * *

"Wow. That… looks awesome."

Tawny can't help the laugh that escapes when the waiter sets quite possibly _the_ most interesting dish she's ever seen in front of Dean. Tawny shakes her head lightly, exchanging a smile with Dean. She feels him put a hand on her knee, his thumb gently rubbing across her kneecap.

"Alright," Sam suddenly says, and when Tawny looks over at him he's holding up his wineglass. "To Mom. Happy birthday."

They all repeat it, holding up their wine or beer, or, in Tawny's case, a glass of very non-alcoholic water. "Thank you," Mary says, smiling brightly. Tawny watches as Sam leans in and gives Jessica a kiss, smiling. Dean leans in and presses his own lips to her cheek, and she turns, sighing against his mouth. When she pulls away, he has an almost sad look on his face.

"You okay, baby?" she asks, raising a hand to cup his cheek. He smiles, laying his hand over hers and moving his press a kiss to her palm.

"I'm good," he says, smiling. "I'm really good."

He glances at the plate in front of him, frowning softly. She looks down at her own dish, half of a very small Cornish game hen, and leans over, putting her lips to Dean's ear. "What d'you say we go pick up a couple cheeseburgers later?"

"Oh, God, yes," he breathes, turning so the tip of his nose brushes Tawny's. "How did I end up with such a cool chick?"

"I guess I've just got low standards," Tawny replies, biting her lip and grinning. Dean leans in and presses another kiss to her lips. When Tawny pulls away, she sees Mary smiling brightly at her and suddenly remembers that she found a neatly wrapped present in the apartment when she and Dean went back to change. She reaches down, not even knowing what it is, and hands it to Mary.

"Happy birthday," she says softly, smiling. Mary shakes her head, laughing.

"You didn't have to get me anything," she says, but takes it anyways. Sam and Jessica look at her curiously as Mary opens it, and suddenly Tawny's just as curious. When the paper falls away, Tawny can see from the back that it's a picture frame, but she can't see the front. From the tears in Mary's eyes, though, she can tell it was the perfect gift.

"Oh," she says softly, pressing her fingertips to her mouth. She stares at it for a few seconds more before turning it so that Sam and Jessica can see it, which also gives Tawny the prefect view. The frame is maybe eight inches by eight inches, the shiny silver border thick. There's an etched pair of baby footprints in one corner and in a loopy script along the bottom it says 'Grandma's First Picture'. The photograph in the middle is what makes Tawny gasp. It's a black and white sonogram, the white blob in the middle obviously the focal point. For some reason, Tawny feels tears sting her eyes when she looks up into the top corner and sees 'Winchester, Tawny L' in bold white letters. Jessica lets out an "Oh, my God!" and looks at Tawny, grinning.

"Congratulations!" she says, reaching across the table to squeeze Tawny's hand. Tawny looks to Sam, who obviously didn't know, and is surprised to see his smile is strained. After a few seconds he reaches over and touches Tawny's shoulder lightly. "Congratulations, guys," he murmurs, but his eyes don't leave Tawny's face. He finally looks away, grabbing Jessica's hand.

"Jess and I actually have another surprise for mom's birthday," he says, looking over at Mary. "Uh, you want to tell them?" He looks to Jessica, who looks nervous. "They're your family," she mutters, and Mary leans forward.

"Alright," Sam says, and Mary looks between them.

"What? Tell me what?" she asks, smiling broadly. Sam and Jessica raise their clasped hands, showing off the diamond engagement ring sitting on her finger.

"Oh, my God!" Mary exclaims, standing to hug Jessica. "That's so wonderful!"

Tawny stands, walking over to embrace Jessica. They hug tightly, and soon Mary walks over, putting her hands to their cheeks.

"How did my boys get so lucky?" she ponders, and she looks between them, beaming.

"A baby and a wedding," Jessica says, shaking her head. Tawny laughs.

"Where's the punch line?"

Mary opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Tawny feels Dean brush past her back, his hand moving lightly over her waist. He walks across the room, obviously looking at something, only there's nothing there. He turns around, looking at Tawny and she feels a pull in her stomach when she sees the fear in his eyes.

"Dean?" she murmurs, walking over to him and putting a hand on his chest. He wraps his fingers loosely around her wrist, leaning in to press his lips to her forehead before muttering "I'll explain later" against her skin. She nods minutely and looks up into his eyes. They make their way back to the table, where Sam, Mary and Jessica are all looking on.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Mary asks, putting a hand on Dean's bicep. He shakes his head, his fingers laced with Tawny's.

"Yeah – yeah, I'm fine," he says, shaking his head. The rest of dinner is filled with talk of baby names and flowers, baby shower games and potential wedding venues. Tawny can't help but notice, though, that there's still a tension in the air, and not just from Dean's odd behavior. Sam seems so distant, hardly looking at Dean and Tawny. Finally the waiter shows up with a small cake and they sing and share it before Dean insists on covering the check.

The car ride back to Mary's is just as tense. Even in the back seat between Mary and Jessica in the middle of a very intense conversation about wedding colors, Tawny can tell that Sam is different. He and Dean hardly say anything to each other, and Tawny can see that he's gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. By the time they make it to the house, Jessica's telling them that she would love for her bridesmaids to wear floor-length dresses and that Tawny _has_ to be one of them.

"Jess, I'll wear a paper bag to your wedding if you want me to, as long as you promise that I can pop this kid out first so I don't look like a hippo," Tawny jokes, and they all laugh as Mary unlocks the door. They make it into the foyer, Tawny wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders as the boys make their way into the living room.

"So," Sam says, turning to look at Dean. "What was all that back at the restaurant?"

Tawny looks over at Dean, wanting to hear his answer, but Jessica turns to her.

"So, do you want a boy or a girl?"

Before Tawny can answer, Mary lays a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, I had a lovely birthday. Thank you," she says, smiling at them all. The four of them murmur goodnight and watch Mary turn to the stairs before Sam speaks up.

"Yeah, well, I'm beat," he says, digging his hands deeper in his pockets. "Ready to turn in?" He looks at Jessica, who nods softly. "Sure." Sam turns and smiles at Tawny, brushing her fingers lightly. "'Night."

"Night Sammy, Jess," she responds, grinning at them as they make their way out of the living room. They don't make it more than a few feet before Dean takes a step forward.

"Wait a second, wait a second," he says, looking between the three of them. Tawny raises an eyebrow as he reaches out and slides his hand down her arm while looking at Sam. "C'mon, it's not even nine o'clock yet. Let's, uh, let's go have a drink or something."

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe another time," Sam declines, moving away, but Dean's persistent.

"C'mon, man. Look at us, huh?" he says, and Jessica looks over at Tawny. "We've both got beautiful women on our arms. You're _engaged_. I'm gonna be a _dad_. Let's go celebrate." He claps Sam on the shoulder, but Sam only smiles tersely, turning to Tawny and Jessica.

"Guys, can you excuse us? I just wanna talk to my brother for a sec," he says softly, and Tawny frowns. He's never asked her to leave, not only because he knows Dean will tell her everything anyways, but because he considers her family. Hell, in this life they _are_ family. The wedding rings on hers and Dean's hands prove that. But Tawny nods, letting Jessica loop their arms before walking over to the foot of the stairs. Tawny watches as Dean and Sam make their way further into the living room.

"I wonder what that's all about," Tawny ponders out loud. She shakes her head softly, leaning down to pull of the burgundy wedges that match her dress perfectly. Jessica moves to pull off her own shoes as Tawny straightens, and suddenly the room is spinning. She reaches out, grasping the banister as she slams her eyes shut, trying to regain her equilibrium.

"Tawny? Are you okay?" Jessica asks, worry lacing her words. Tawny slowly opens her eyes, glad to see the room is stationary again. She smiles apprehensively at Jessica, who's got her hands on Tawny's shoulders.

"Yeah, just a little dizzy."

"C'mon," Jessica says, grabbing the crook of Tawny's arm lightly as she guides her toward the kitchen. "You should sit down and have something to drink." When they get into the kitchen, they pause, looking up. Tawny isn't sure if it's the acoustics of the house or if Sam and Dean are just that close, but they can hear the heated conversation in the living room as if they were only a few feet away.

" – when you snaked my ATM card. Or when you bailed on my graduation. Or the first time you had sex with Tawny in the back seat of the freaking Impala," Sam says, his voice clipped and angry. Jessica and Tawny exchange looks, obviously both thinking that they shouldn't be hearing this. But Tawny can't help but wonder exactly why Sam would be so upset that Dean slept with her.

"What's Tawny got to do with this?" Dean asks, clearly as confused as Tawny is. She hears Sam scoff.

"Dean, you knew that I'd been in love with Tawny since, like, the second grade. You also knew that, uh, I was planning on asking her out that same night. Hell, I even told you that I wanted to marry her someday," Sam says, sadness mixing in with the anger. Tawny's breath hitches in her throat, and even though she can feel Jessica's eyes burning into the side of her face like lasers, she can't seem to look away from where the voices are echoing from.

"Sammy, look – I never meant to –" Dean starts, but Sam cuts him off.

"No, look, it's alright man. I'm with Jess now and I couldn't be happier or love her more. I just – you know, I'm not asking you to change. I just, uh – I don't know. I guess we just don't have anything in common, you know?"

Tawny sort of mentally checks out at that point, just standing there staring at the open doorway in the dining room wall that turns out into the living room. Sam is in love with her. Sammy, the one she knew she could tell anything to because he would never tell another living soul, the one she could turn to for sound, unbiased advice. Hell, she gave him her virginity, probably the _only_ thing she had to give other than her _life_ , because she knew he wouldn't ask for more.

No.

That isn't this Sammy. This man, the one who barely even looks at her, isn't even a _Sammy_. He's 'Sam', and 'Sam' is engaged to Jessica and drives a fancy car and is eventually going to be a God-damned lawyer. 'Sam' doesn't drink unless it's some fancy wine. 'Sam' doesn't glare but grin playfully when Dean makes a joke, 'Sam' looks on in disappointment. Tawny doesn't like this Sam. This Sam is too arrogant and too uptight and too serious and too _wrong_.

"Tawny?"

Tawny's concentration breaks when she hears Dean's voice, but it doesn't come from the living room. Dean says her name again and she realizes he's in the foyer, but when she turns to leave the kitchen, she sees Sam standing in the doorway, looking between her and Jessica. His face is unreadable as Tawny steps towards him and reaches out to touch his arm. He leans away from her, though, and she feels tears stinging her eyes.

"Sam, please – " she starts to say, but Sam's eyes are suddenly burning with anger. "C'mon, Jess," he says softly, but his voice is steady and firm. Jessica walks past Tawny, looking at her briefly and shooting her a small smile.

"Goodnight, Tawny," she says sadly, and suddenly Tawny feels guilty as sin. They turn and walk out of the kitchen, leaving Tawny standing there with a flurry of emotions swirling in her chest. She only starts leaving when Dean says her name a third time.

"I'm right here," Tawny says softly as she walks into the foyer, where Dean is standing at the foot of the stairs, Tawny's shawl and wedges in one hand, his keys hanging loosely in the other. She tries to smile at him, but she's pretty sure it comes off as more of a grimace. He frowns as she walks over to him, flipping the keys around to hang over the back of his hand as he presses his palm into her back and pulls her to him.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asks softly, his green eyes filled with concern. Tawny opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so she just shakes her head, staring at the knot of his tie. She's never really bought the whole Dean-wearing-a-tie thing, so she reaches up and tugs at it until the knot comes undone and she can pull it off. Dean stands there obediently, letting her undo the top two buttons of his shirt before she looks back up to his eyes.

"Let's go home, huh?" she says softly, finally finding her voice. Dean nods once, pressing a kiss to her forehead before dropping his hand. When they get to the car, Tawny curls into Dean's side, nearly drifting off as his hand gently plays with the hair at the back of her head. When he pulls up to the curb in front of the apartment building, Tawny looks at him.

"Thought you wanted to get cheeseburgers?" she asks, and he turns to her, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear as he presses a lingering kiss to her lips. Tawny leans into it, sighing when he pulls away and rests his forehead against hers.

"Not hungry anymore," he murmurs against her mouth, and Tawny nods. Tawny makes the short trip up to their apartment barefoot, and when they make it inside, she flips on the living room light and hangs her wrap up on the coat stand by the door. Dean locks the door as she drops her shoes under the stand and follows her into the bedroom, where they both undress in silence. Tawny walks over to the closet, grabbing a plaid button up and tugging it on before turning to see that Dean's standing in front of the dresser in a pair of tight black boxer briefs. At first she thinks he's looking at himself in the mirror, but when she takes a step forward, the change in angle reveals a picture tucked into the wooden frame around the mirror.

Tawny walks up behind him, smiling widely when she sees that it's a picture of the two of them on the couch at Mary's house, Tawny perched in Dean's lap. She can tell it isn't a recent picture, it was probably taken a year or two ago, and she can also tell by the crease between Dean's eyebrows that he isn't looking at himself or Tawny, but he's looking at Sam in the background. He's leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, and Tawny can see the scowl on his face.

"Where did I go wrong, Tawny?" Dean mutters, and Tawny brings a hand up to run up and down his back.

"You didn't, Dean," she replies softly, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of his shoulder. "Things are just… different here." They stand there for another few seconds staring at the picture before Tawny presses another chaste kiss to the same spot.

"Want a drink?" she offers, and Dean nods softly, straightening. Tawny squeezes his bicep softly before going out to the kitchen, where she finds a six pack in the fridge. When she gets back out to the living room, Dean is in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, his bare feet propped up in the coffee table, and Tawny can't help but grin at how natural he looks sitting there in the middle of the couch watching some stupid infomercial. Tawny pads over to him, holding out the beer, which he gratefully takes. He downs a third of it as Tawny sits next to him, turning to lean against the arm and drape her legs across his lap. When he lowers the bottle he lets out a sigh of contentment before turning to her.

"So, I work with your dad?" he asks, resting his hand on Tawny's knee. Tawny grins, recounting everything she learned from Mary earlier that day: The move, Bobby's garage, the Olympics, the bar, the wedding. When Tawny finally finishes telling Dean about their life together, he's finished with his beer and there's a new product being advertised. Dean looks at her, his expression unreadable, and Tawny can't help but notice how damn _beautiful_ he is. The television casts a soft glow across his face, his freckles and the reddish stubble along his jaw standing out in contrast to his pale skin. His pupils are large, absorbing as much light as possible, the green shrinking to a thin moss-colored ring. Tawny's eyes move down, past the freckled bridge of his nose, to his barely parted, plush lips. His tongue darts out for a moment, wetting them, and Tawny moves in for a kiss before she can help it. His tongue dips between her lips almost immediately, and he twists his torso enough to wrap his arms around her waist and tug her into his lap. She straddles his lap, her thighs trapping his hips as she lowers herself onto his groin. Just when Tawny's lungs are starting to burn from the lack of oxygen being fed to them, Dean pulls away like he can read her mind.

"You know, I get it," Dean murmurs, pulling away enough to look in her eyes. Tawny smiles and furrows her eyebrows as his hand come up to tangle in her hair. "Get what?"

"Why you're the one," he says before cupping the back of her neck to pull her into another kiss. Their lips come together hard enough to send a tremor of pleasurepain down Tawny's spine and she unconsciously rolls her hips down to his, moaning into his mouth when she feels his erection pressing against the back of his zipper. He bucks up against her and Tawny pulls away gasping, her hands pulling at the short hair at the back of Dean's head. He takes the opportunity to grasp the ends of Tawny's hair, gently pulling her head back to expose her throat, where his lips close over her pulse point. Tawny arches into his touch, grinding down again when he sucks hard enough that Tawny can feel the blood pooling under her skin.

"Dean…"

His name comes out as a half-moan, half-whine, and he hums against her throat, the hand not tangled in her hair sliding up under the material of her shirt. He spreads his palm between her shoulder blades, his fingertips digging into the flesh of her back as he pulls her closer, his mouth, tongue and teeth searching out every millimeter of exposed skin. When he finally gets to the 'v' shaped opening of the shirt he pulls away, tugging it up and over her head. He leans forward when Tawny's fingers find the hem of his own shirt, and she wrestles it off of him, tossing it over the back of the couch. His lips close over a nipple and Tawny gasps, arching into his mouth, her hands digging into his shoulders. He nips at the hardened bud lightly before letting it go with a filthy pop, licking over it with the flat of his tongue slowly, then looking up at her.

"Bedroom?" he pants, and all Tawny can do is nod. She moves to stand, but he wraps an arm around her waist, holding her to his chest as he stands. She wraps her legs around his waist, his mouth finding hers again as he stumbles towards the bedroom. He kneels on the bed, laying Tawny down on her back as gently as possible without detaching their lips. Her hands move down his chest to the top of his jeans. She quickly flicks open the button and pulls the zipper down, swallowing down his moan as she presses her palm against his blood-thick length. He pulls away, rolling his hips down into her hand.

"So good, baby," he pants, his eyes falling closed as she slides her hand up, her thumb rolling over the tip. She moans herself when she feels that the cotton is sticky with pre-come, and she wonders briefly why the fact that his arousal is strong enough to make him leak this much pre-come is such a turn-on. He bucks into her hand again, leaning down to kiss her softly, but she can still feel the emotion he's practically feeding her. He pulls away after a moment, bumping their noses together.

"Wanna fuck you, baby," he murmurs, his breath warm and muggy as it hits her mouth. "Can I?" He looks at her, his face close enough that she can see the flecks of caramel in the bottle green, along with the hesitation and love and adoration and _need_ filling them. She doesn't answer, only pushes at his jeans and underwear. Thankfully he takes the hint and pushes himself up onto his knees so he can shove the material around his thighs. He leans back over Tawny, blanketing her with his body as he kicks them off the rest of the way. His lips find hers again, tucking one arm under her back as his free hand gently pulls at her own underwear. He gets them down her thighs, letting her kick them off the rest of the way before he grasps a leg, pulling it up to rest at his hip. Tawny quickly takes the hint and bends her other leg, wrapping both tightly around his back. He slides into her easily and they both moan as he bottoms out, their combined arousal slicking the way. He pauses when the heavy swell of his balls is resting against her, his eyes clenched tightly closed as he tries desperately not to move. Tawny raises a hand to his cheek, rubbing her thumb across his cheekbone. "Hey, stay with me, baby," she murmurs, smiling softly when his eyes open. He's biting down hard on his lower lip, so Tawny lowers her hand to run her thumb across it. He lets it go, the spit-slicked flesh red and plump from the pressure.

He tentatively rolls his hips once, and Tawny moans, arching up to him. It's obviously the only sign he needs because he rolls his hips again, setting a pace so slow it's almost agonizing. He leans down, kissing her deeply, his tongue thrusting into her mouth in time with his hips. It isn't long before Tawny feels the slow bloom of an orgasm starting in her belly, and she pulls away, pressing her head back into the pillows.

"Dean…" she whimpers, her hands moving across his ribs to grasp blindly at his hips. He starts to move a little faster, leaning down to run his tongue along the line of her throat and Tawny cries out when her muscles start to clench around him. He speeds his thrusts, his hips snapping against hers in a quick yet gentle rhythm. After a dozen or so thrusts he pulls away, dropping his forehead to hers. Tawny starts to roll her hips up, meeting him half way, moving in perfect sync like it's what they were made to do. Tawny feels the familiar flutter in her belly again and squeezes Dean's hips, her fingertips digging into the meat of his ass as she leans up next to his ear.

"Come for me, Dean."

It's like he was waiting for those words to let go, and even as Tawny's own orgasm rips through her, she can't help but look at Dean's face as he falls apart. His eyes fall closed as she feels him swell inside her, his lips parting in a deep moan as he paints her walls with his slick heat. He lowers himself gently onto her, his face buried in her neck. "I love you," he murmurs, his lips catching on the skin of her neck. Tawny gently brings her hand up to the back of his head, her fingers playing in the short hair and she turns her head, pressing her cheek against his sweat-damp forehead.

"I love you, too," she whispers. They lay like that for a few minutes, until his softened flesh finally slips out of her. He rolls off of her, gently tugging her into his chest and kissing her forehead.

"Get some sleep, baby," he murmurs, nuzzling the same spot with his nose. Tawny's eyes drift shut and the last thing she thinks is that this is where Dean belongs. Right here, right now, is the life Dean should have had, and it's the life he deserves.

* * *

When Tawny wakes up, she knows immediately that she's not in the apartment. She sits up suddenly, squinting at the bright light shining in through the thin curtains hanging in the windows. She glances around the room, knowing immediately that it's a cheap motel. Her heart sinks when she realizes that something must have happened. This is confirmed when Sam steps out of the bathroom and gives her a warm smile as he walks over to her.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," he says gently, dropping down to sit beside her on the bed. He pushes the sweat damp hair off of her forehead, pressing a kiss to the same spot.

"Sammy?" she asks hesitantly, and his smile turns sad.

"Yeah, it's me. Dean told me everything that happened when the djinn had you guys under," he says softly, and Tawny's eyebrows knit in confusion.

"The djinn… Wait, so – so none of that was real?" she asks, unwanted tears springing to her eyes as Sam gently shakes his head. Tawny looks away, watching as the wall unit blows the ends of the tattered curtains.

"Dean told you everything… like, _everything_?" she asks, looking back at Sam, who nods again.

"Yeah. Everything," he says, looking down at her hands. He turns his palm up, nudging his fingertips under hers, grinning slightly when she hooks their fingers together. She looks at him for a moment, trying to figure out the look on his face. Then it hits her like a ton of bricks, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

"Sam, do – d'you – I mean, everything that you said in that… wish or whatever… do you really feel that way?" she asks hesitantly. Sam doesn't look at her at first. He sits there for a few seconds, playing with her fingers. He only looks up when she gently brushes the fringe of bangs off of his forehead, her palm coming to rest on his cheek.

"Sammy?"

He sighs, his eyes going misty.

"Tawny, I've loved you since we were about eight years old. For years I – I didn't know what to do about it, Tawny. I tried to tell you so many times, but it never came out. And then Dean started looking at you like he does and – I don't know. I guess I just knew deep down you and Dean are meant to be."

Tawny feels a tear roll down her cheek, matching the one that's on Sam's cheek, and she instinctively reaches up to wipe it away. "Sammy, I – God, I'm so sorry, Sammy," she says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He buries his face in her hair, sniffling softly. "It's okay, Tawny," he whispers, leaning back enough to press his forehead against hers. "I've come to realize that seeing how happy you are with Dean is enough for me. I just want you to be happy, baby," he says softly. Tawny smiles softly at the endearment, knowing Sam rarely uses it.

"And," he adds, pulling back enough to look her in the eye, an odd excitement in his eyes. "I know you two are definitely meant for each other. I was doing some research about djinns after what Dean told me about you sharing a wish like that."

He stands, crossing the room and grabbing an open book off of the table before walking back over, setting the book in Tawny's lap. She looks down, seeing a loopy Middle Eastern language, but the picture is what surprises her. A genie sits on a cloud, his hands outstretched towards a couple on the ground, both dressed lavishly for a ceremony, most likely a wedding.

"Apparently, djinn can sense a pair of Jodoh, or soulmates, and can grant them a joint wish. I mean, it's not as good as it sounds since the djinn is drinking your blood while it happens, but it makes sense that you and Dean would have the same wish, since you guys were practically made for each other," he says, looking up. Tawny searches his eyes for any sign of sadness or anger or resentment, but doesn't find any.

"Sam, you know I don't believe in soulmates," she says softly, and Sam nods. It's the truth, she really doesn't. She can't accept that God would bind two people together permanently, making sure that they don't have any choice but to fall in love with the very realistic possibility of losing that person.

"I know, Tawny," he says, raising his eyebrows. "But you can't deny that you and Dean have always had this weird sort of – well, psychic link, for lack of a better term."

Tawny knows it's true, but for some reason it's hard for her to wrap her head around the fact that maybe, just _maybe_ , she and Dean were supposed to meet. The thought that she could so easily lose either Sam or Dean scares her so badly it hurts.

"I do love you, Sam. You know that, right?" she says, and Sam smiles. "Yeah, I know," he replies, pulling her into a hug, and the steady beat of his heart against Tawny's chest is enough to calm her.


	15. One More Day

_**Disclaimer:**_ _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episodes 2x21 & 2x22: "All Hell Breaks Loose Parts 1 & 2" belong to writers Eric Kripke, Sera Gamble, and Michael T. Moore. The lyrics to "One More Day" belong to Bobby Tomberlin and Steven Dale Jones._

 _Tawny belongs to me._

 _First thing I'd do is pray for time to crawl  
Then I'd unplug the telephone and keep the TV off  
I'd hold you every second, say a million I love you's  
That's what I'd do, with one more day with you  
One more day, one more time  
One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied  
But then again I know what it would do  
Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you_

"Diner."

"What?"

" _Diner_."

"Huh?"

"Dean, I swear to God if you don't fucking stop at this fucking diner I'm gonna fucking eat _you._ "

"I thought that was _his_ job…"

"Shut up, Sam!"

Tawny glares at Sam and Dean as they exchange smiles and crosses her arms over her chest before turning her gaze to the windshield. It's nine forty-five at night, they've been on the road all day, the last thing Tawny had to eat was a Snickers bar at eight o'clock this morning, and at the moment she's seriously considering tearing a chunk out of the leather seat and eating _that_ to sooth her burning stomach. Her scowl narrows when she hears Dean chuckle before his arm slides off of the back of the bench seat.

"I hate you both," she grumbles, and Sam nudges her side playfully.

"No, you don't. You love us," he says, drawing out the words in a sing-song voice. Tawny looks over at him, unable to help her slight grin when she sees he's smiling broadly, white teeth and dimples out unashamedly. She manages to force herself back into a straight-face, though, saying "I do too!" as Dean hands him a twenty dollar bill.

"Hey, don't forget the extra onions this time, huh?" Dean says, and Sam's smile falters. "Dude, I'm the one who's gonna have to ride in the car with your extra onions," he says indignantly, and Dean grins. Sam scoffs, looking to Tawny for help, but she only shrugs. "Don't look at me. I hate you, remember?" she says, deadpan. Sam sighs before shoving the door open. Before he's even standing, Dean leans over Tawny's lap, his hand 'inadvertently' falling high on the inside of Tawny's thigh.

"Hey, see if they got any pie."

Sam leans down and glares, moving to close the door. As Sam shuts the door, Dean leans over farther, his shoulder brushing Tawny's chest, and practically yells "Bring me some _pie_!" and when Sam is almost by the door of the diner, says softer "Love me some pie…" as he leans back. He squeezes the hand on Tawny's thigh and Tawny can't help the tremor of arousal that shoots down her spine. If Dean notices it, he ignores it, though, draping an arm over the back of the seat behind Tawny. His green eyes turn to her, his eyebrows rising a little in mock surprise. She looks at him, trying to keep her expression blank.

"Oh, hi, there," he says softly, using his best come-hither voice. "Come here often?" He tightens the arm over her shoulders, tugging her to him. His lips are a breath away from hers when the radio goes fuzzy, altogether dropping out after a few seconds. They both pull back, looking around curiously, and Tawny feels the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

"Dean," she starts, unsure of exactly what it is she wants to say. Her eyes eventually fall on the windows of the diner, which suddenly appears to be empty. Dean is still close enough that the tip of his nose brushes her cheek when he turns to face the same direction. As if they're reading one another's minds, they both climb out of the car, immediately sprinting towards the door. Tawny wrenches it open and takes a step in, but she stops when she sees the man closest to the door is leaning forward, face down in a pool of blood. Icy panic fills her chest as she reaches for her gun, and she hears Dean do the same. "Sam?" Dean calls, gently urging Tawny forward with a hand pressed to the small of her back. He pulls it away as soon as she starts walking and Tawny craves its comfort again immediately. They slowly make their way through the diner, Tawny's stomach turning when she sees that even the sole waitress and cook are lying crumpled behind the counter, throats slit wide open. They finally get to a back door, which Tawny opens, staring into woods. "Sam?" she calls, but only the sound of rainfall answers her. She lets the door fall closed, and as her hands slides along the bottom of the window she feels something gritty. When she looks down she sees the yellow. It takes her a moment, but as soon as she raises her hand to show Dean, it hits her like a semi to the chest.

"Sulfur," they both murmur at the same time, and, again in unison, stride quickly back to the front door of the diner. When they get outside, both immediately start calling for him. Just like before, though, there's no sound but the rain, which is slowly picking up. They both stand at the trunk looking out into the darkness for a few long minutes.

"Okay, we need to call your dad," Dean says, turning towards her. She looks over at him, her mind oddly blank. He takes a step toward her, grabbing her arms, his fingers digging into her biceps hard enough that it's just this side of painful. "Tawny, snap out of it! We have to call your dad," he repeats, squeezing harder. Tawny feels a shiver run down her spine as she realizes that the other times Sam's disappeared seem like weekend trips to Napa Valley compared to this.

"Tawny!"

Tawny looks up at Dean, who is considering her with a mix of anger and concern on his face, and her mind clears just as suddenly as it had emptied. "Okay," she says, pulling out of Dean's grasp and heading towards the car. Once they're in, Tawny pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket, grabbing onto the door for support when Dean peels violently towards the road. Bobby answers on the third ring and Tawny quickly tells him what happened. He agrees to meet them a few hours away, and says he'll bring everything they might need that Dean doesn't already have in the trunk. When Tawny finally snaps her phone shut, she feels drained.

She doesn't realize she's staring out of the windshield silently until she feels Dean's fingers brush her thigh. He grabs her wrist, pulling her to his side firmly. He murmurs a quick "Sorry" against her wet hair before pressing a kiss to it.

"Dean, I – I told him I hated him. Before he went in there. Dean, what if that's the last – " she starts, but can't finish because her throat suddenly goes tight. Dean squeezes her to him tighter, pulling away to rest his cheek against her head.

"I know, baby. I know."

* * *

It's still raining when they get to the side street that Bobby told her he'd meet them on. Tawny doesn't wait for Dean to put the car in park before she throws open the door and climbs out quickly. For some reason she's gotten claustrophobic and can't stand to be in it anymore. She slams the door, walking over to a small irrigation pond, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, relishing the sting of the cold air in her nostrils, then in her lungs. She slowly opens her eyes and looks out of over the water, watching as the strong wind whips at it violently, just as it's doing to her wet hair and jacket. Her mind is so full she feels like it's going to burst. The time she was there and Sam left, she knew that he'd gone of his own accord. She knew it because he'd obviously gotten dressed and packed his bag and even made his fucking bed. This time, though, he was clearly taken by something, and that something was a demon. Probably the same demon that killed Mary and John. She feels the burn of tears and clenches her eyes shut. She can't cry. Not in front of Dean, and definitely not in front of Bobby. It's not that she's afraid that they'll think she's weak, but it's the fact that for her, tears mean that she's resigned to the fact that Sam's going to die. Or that he's already dead.

The thought makes Tawny's chest clench, squeezing the air from her lungs in a fraction of a second. Her eyes fly open and she lets the air out in a quick, shaky breath. _Sam will not die. Sam_ _ **will**_ _not die. Sam_ _ **will not**_ _die._ _ **Sam will not die**_ _._

Tawny doesn't realize she's spoken the words aloud until she hears Dean's "What?" from right behind her. She turns, looking at him for a moment, just taking in the way he looks. His hair is wet, the short spikes sticking forward at odd angles, the drops dripping off of them rolling slowly onto his face. She sees one track its way over his cheek, leaving a shimmering trail over the freckles scattered on the skin. His eyes are a dark bottle green, just as stormy as the grey sky above them. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his shirt damp where it's pressed up against his chest and stomach. A particularly strong gust of wind pushes the hem up enough to expose a strip of lightly tanned skin. Tawny has no idea why she deserves the man standing in front of her. He isn't perfect by any means; he's sarcastic and he drinks too much and when he's stressed, which is almost always, he gets snappy and he listens to his music too loud and he drives too fast.

But those qualities are overshadowed by others. Like the way he knows what Tawny's going to order at a restaurant before she does; the way he lets her be the big spoon in bed every once in a while and holds her hand to his heart, letting her feel the steady beat to lull her to sleep; the way he always used to sit quietly at the table in Bobby's kitchen, making sure that Tawny and Sam always got the best pieces of chicken or pizza or whatever they were having before he took what was left, even when he hit his growth spurt in the seventh grade and practically had to eat his body weight every day; the way he knows Tawny doesn't want words after a nightmare and lets her cling to him, peppering kisses along her forehead and cheeks; the way he loves Sam unconditionally.

"Sam… will not… die…" she breathes before walking over to him and grabbing the collar of his shirt to tug him into a tight hug. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Tawny, one hand pressing into her lower back to pull her hips against his, the other going between her shoulder blades to grasp gently at her hair. Tawny holds onto his neck like if she lets go he'll blow away, pushing herself up onto her toes to press their bodies flush together. "I love you so fucking much, Dean," she whispers, finally letting her tears fall. He squeezes her tighter, forcing the air from Tawny's lungs but at this point Tawny wouldn't let go for anything. "I love you, too, Tawny."

The rumble of Bobby's truck a few dozen yards down the road finally brings them back to the fact that they're standing in the freezing rain. Dean presses a sloppy kiss to the side of Tawny's neck, sucking at it lightly before pulling away. He leaves one hand around her waist, tugging her to the hood of the Impala just as Bobby stops the truck. He looks between them hesitantly, turning off the car, and Tawny suddenly realizes how strange it must be for him to see this kid he'd once taught to pick locks and shoot guns holding onto his daughter like it's what he was made to do. Recently Tawny's been wondering if it _is_ what he was made to do.

When Bobby gets out of the truck, he has a map clutched in one hand, a towel in the other. "You look like a wet dog," he mutters, tossing Tawny the towel. She glares at him, but wrings her hair out and starts to rub it dry anyways. "Alright," Bobby says as he walks over to the Impala, laying out the laminated map on the dash. When Tawny turns to stand between him and Dean, she sees its one she recently added to his collection.

"This is it – all demonic signs and omens over the past month," he says, and Tawny stops rubbing the towel over her head. "Are you joking?" she says, and Dean leans around her. "There's nothing here," he finishes.

"Exactly," Bobby says, looking between them. Tawny turns and looks at Dean, who shakes his head. "C'mon, there's gotta be something," he says, looking desperately at Bobby. "What about the-the normal, low-level stuff – you know, exorcisms, that kinda thing?" he pleads, but Bobby shakes his head.

"That's what I'm tellin' ya. There's nothin'. It's completely quiet."

"How are we supposed to look for Sam? What, do we just close our eyes and point?" Dean says loudly. Before Bobby can yell back, Dean's phone rings. He tugs it out of his pocket, looking at Tawny when he holds it up to his ear.

"Ash, what d'you got… c'mon, man, you gotta give us something. I mean, we're looking at a three thousand mile haystack here… Well, what… C'mon, I don't have time for this!"

After a few seconds Dean pulls his phone away from his ear, looking between Tawny and Bobby. "I guess we're going to the Roadhouse," he says, circling the hood of the car. Tawny walks over and climbs in before Bobby does.

* * *

Tawny feels a wave of nausea hit her when they turn off of the main road to see the Roadhouse burned to the ground. As Dean pulls the Impala up closer, Tawny can see the smoldering wreckage isn't just parts of the building. The climb out of the car and walk into the middle of the rubble, and Tawny looks around at smoking wood and plastic and weapons and body parts. Tawny's stomach flips when she sees the lower half of a leg.

"My God," Bobby groans from behind Tawny, running his hand over his beard. She can't seem to look away from a hat lying on top of a wooden beam. It belonged to Heath Cawley, a friend of her ex-boyfriend. He'd called her a month after Cam died, drunk as hell, and she'd listened to him cry for three hours in her truck on the way to pick him up from a bar just south of Aberdeen. She didn't know he knew the Roadhouse.

Tawny finally looks up when she hears Dean ask "Y'all see Ellen?" and she shakes her head.

"No," Bobby says, walking past Tawny, looking around in the rubble. "No Ash, either."

Tawny's eyes fall on the hat again, but only for a second.

"Oh, Ash, dammit!" Dean groans, and Tawny looks over to see him kneeling over an arm. He falls silent after that, and they spend the next few minutes digging around, looking for anything to signal Ellen was there. When they find nothing, they make their way back to the car.

"This is…" Bobby starts, but he just shakes his head. Tawny agrees with him completely. "What the hell did Ash know?" Dean ponders aloud, grabbing Tawny's hand. She wonders if he does it consciously, and is pretty sure he doesn't as his thumb starts to rub her knuckles softly. "We got no way of knowing where Ellen is, or if she's even alive. We got no clue what Ash was gonna tell us. Now, how the hell are we gonna find Sam?"

Dean leans forward to brace himself on the hood, his palms pressed against the still-warm metal, and Tawny walks over to him, grabbing his arm with both hands. "We'll find him," she urges, and she isn't so sure it was for Dean's benefit as much as for hers. He looks at her for a second before his eyes clench shut and he reaches up, the heel of his palm pressing over his eye.

"Dean?" Bobby asks, and the only answer he gets is a moan. Dean looks up at Tawny a split second before he groans again, his face contorting in pain. He reaches out blindly and Tawny grabs his bicep, looking over at Bobby in horror. She's starting to wonder how it is that they're supposed to find Sam if Dean is having his own issues.

"What was that?" Bobby asks as Dean finally lowers his hand, and Tawny can see that his eyes are watering. She absently runs her hand down his back, sliding her fingertips under the hem of his shirt. He takes a few deep breaths and leans against the hood again. "I don't know. Headache?"

"You get headaches like that a lot?" Bobby asks skeptically. She can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn't look away from Dean's face. "No," he mutters, his eyes flashing to Tawny's face. "It must be the stress," he says. Tawny reaches up with the hand not on his back, cupping his cheek. She runs her thumb across his lower lip, searching for any sign of something outwardly wrong. He smiles faintly, kissing her thumb before she drops her hand. He reaches up and runs his hand over his face.

"I coulda swore I saw something," he says. Tawny looks over at Bobby.

"What d'you mean? Like – like a vision? Like what Sam gets?"

"What? No." Dean shakes his head, looking between Bobby and Tawny in disbelief.

"I'm just sayin'," Bobby defends, but Dean shakes his head.

"C'mon, I'm not some psychic," he snaps, turning to Tawny. Then he damn near collapses, his eyes clenched shut. Tawny cries out his name, grabbing at the back of his jacket with one hand, the other reaching around his chest to try to hold him up. He leans heavily against the hood as Bobby makes his way around to grab at the back of Dean's collar.

"Dean? Are you with us?" Bobby asks desperately, glancing at Tawny. She feels tears sting her eyes, not knowing what she would do if she lost both of her boys. She breathes a sigh of relief when Dean's hand comes up and tightens around her forearm. "Yeah, I think so," he grinds out, looking back down at the hood, but Tawny can tell he doesn't see it. "I saw Sam. I saw him."

Dean rubs at his eyes and moves to stand, and Bobby mutters "It _was_ a vision" as he pulls away. One of Dean's hands drops to Tawny's waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Yeah," he agrees hoarsely. "I don't know how, but – but yeah." He lets out a breath, looking up at Tawny with a small smile tugging at his lips. "That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels," he mutters, tugging her even closer. He's still bent over slightly, his face now buried in her chest. She sighs, kissing the top of his head before tangling her fingers in the short hair at the back of his head, her short fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp.

"What else did you see?" Bobby asks, and Dean looks up at him, but Tawny doesn't remove her hand from his chest, so he gives in and rests his chin on Tawny's forearm.

"A bell," he says simply, and Bobby's eyebrows knit.

"What kinda bell?" he asks as Tawny finally pulls away keeping on hand at the base of his spine, her fingers gently petting along the soft skin just above his jeans.

"Oh, um, like, a bi- a big bell with some kinda engraving on it, I don't know," Dean says. He turns enough to tug Tawny to him and he drops his head, nuzzling the side of Tawny's neck. She realizes his breathing is ragged and shallow, like he's just run a marathon.

"Was it a tree – like an oak tree?" Bobby asks, and Tawny feels Dean look up at Bobby over her shoulder. "Yeah. Exactly," he says, pulling away from her slightly. Tawny turns to look at Bobby but can't make out the look on his face.

* * *

"I know where Sam is."

"So, why would the demon send Sam to Cold Oak South freakin' Dakota?"

Dean looks at Tawny expectantly. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. They've been on the road for almost four hours, the sun has just dipped below the horizon, and all Tawny wants to do is get Sam and get back to her dad's place. The hand Dean set on her knee a hundred miles back clenches and Tawny looks back up.

"Back in 1854 the whole town just up and left. It's apparently got something like 300 ghosts haunting it, most of them violent. Actually, it's probably the most haunted town in the U.S. Which is totally crazy considering –" she says, but Dean squeezes her knee again.

"Point, baby," he says, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Tawny sighs, cover his hand with her own. "The _point_ , Dean, is that it's an abandoned town. You know, Sam'll have to fend for himself, protect himself with whatever crap they left back in 1854. I think it's some kind of, I don't know – some kind of test."

When Tawny looks at Dean, his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "A test?" he asks, and she can see his wide eyes flicker towards hers, looking for answers. She just shrugs though, playing with the ring on his hand. "I dunno, Dean. I just –"

"Well, if you don't know, why'd you say anything?" he says loudly, and Tawny looks up at him, surprised at his tone.

"I – You asked so I thought –" she starts, but he cuts her off with a sharp "Well, you thought wrong". Bobby opens his mouth and starts to say something but Tawny interrupts him. "Don't get pissy with me, Dean. I'm just trying to help!"

"Well, don't try to help unless you –"

"Shuddup, both'a you! Sam's out there, maybe hurt, and the last thing he needs is for you two to be havin' some kinda lovers' spat!" Bobby suddenly yells. Dean and Tawny both look at him with wide eyes, but he only grumbles "Idjits" and glares out of the window. Dean looks over to see he's veered into the other lane and barely guides it back into the right one when Bobby mutters that they're gonna miss the exit for Cold Oak, so Dean turns the wheel harder to the right. The paved road turns dirt after half a mile or so, and Tawny can't help but stared wide-eyed at the trees that pass by. She jumps when Dean drops his hand back down into her lap, but she leans against his shoulder as he laces his fingers with hers, holding on tightly.

After a few miles they finally come upon the town and Dean parks behind an old Blacksmith shop. Tawny reluctantly lets Dean pull his hand away from hers and she follows him out of the car and into the cold night air. Tawny lets out a breath and watches the moisture from her lungs escape in a cloud.

"Tawny, you want your Colt or the twelve gauge?" Dean asks from the trunk, and she turns to see him opening it. She walks over, grabbing her old Mossberg, sliding a couple salt shells into it. She cocks it before looking up to see Bobby watching her closely, an unhappy look on his face. Tawny smiles faintly at him and he smiles back, but the sadness stays as Dean closes the trunk.

"Alright, we stick together, 'kay?" Bobby says, looking between Dean and Tawny. They both nod before looking at each other. Dean opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it. He pulls Tawny to his chest instead, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to her forehead. "I – I love you, Tawny Lee," he murmurs. Tawny feels tears sting her eyes and she looks up, seeing nothing but love and honesty and devotion in those green depths.

"I love you, too, baby," she says, kissing his mouth. When she pulls away she looks over at Bobby, expecting him to make some snide comment or huff or at least roll his eyes, but he just gives her a small smile. She returns it, albeit hesitantly, before adjusting her grip on the gun in her hands.

They make their way around the building, Dean calling out Sam's name. After a few excruciatingly long minutes of walking through the cold, now rainy, darkness, they round the corner of a half-collapsed building and see Sam. Tawny smiles broadly and Dean sighs with relief, saying his name one last time.

"Dean," Sam replies, a smile breaking out on his own face. Just as Tawny starts to take a step towards him, though, she sees movement out of the corner of her eye. She looks over just in time to see a man dressed in fatigues rushing at Sam from behind, something in his hand.

"Sam, look out!" she manages to yell, but a split-second later she hears the dull thud and crunch of a knife being thrust into Sam's back. She watches in horror as Sam's face contorts, his lips drawing back in a grimace as the other man gives the knife a quick twist before pulling it out and running off. Sam collapses just as Tawny and Dean make it to him, Tawny dropping to her knees and sliding in the mud as she puts a hand over the wound. She looks up at Dean, tears flowing freely as he grabs at his brother's collar.

"Whoa, Sam," Dean says, letting Sam's head drop to his shoulder for a moment before pushing him back enough to cup his cheeks. Tawny slides around enough to try to help Dean hold him up, her thighs bracketing one of Sam's hips. Dean holds Sam's head up and Tawny has to bite down on her lip to keep a sob from escaping when she sees the light draining from Sam's eyes. "Hey, look at me," Dean pleads. Sam's eyes barely flicker up to his face. "It's not even that bad – It's not even that bad, all right?"

Tawny reaches up with her free hand to wipe blood from his bottom lip, her chest aching from the pain of swallowing down her sobs, and it's too much when Sam finally looks over at her, the gorgeous blue-green hazel going blank and glassy. Dean glances at Tawny for a moment and she tries to compose herself, but Sam won't turn his eyes away from her. She feels a soft pressure on her thigh and looks down to see Sam's hand, his fingers grasping weakly. She tugs his hand between both of hers, rubs soft circles into his palm. His eyes start to close and Tawny jumps when Dean shakes him just this side of too rough, nearly yelping Sam's name.

"Hey, listen to me," Dean pleads, using two fingers to roll Sam's head towards him. Sam looks at Dean. "We're gonna patch you up, okay? You'll be good as new." Sam's head lolls forward, his eyes closing, but Dean presses on, leaning in so his nose is almost brushing Sam's.

"I'm gonna take care'a you. I got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother," Dean says, his own eyes brimming with tears. Tawny feels Sam squeeze her hand once, so light that if she hadn't been paying such close attention she would have missed it, and then his hand goes limp.

* * *

Tawny isn't sure how long she's been sitting on the floor, her legs tucked up under her, one arm cradling her head, the other laying over Sam's chest. Her fingers are gently brushing at his bangs, the chocolate-colored fringe soft under her touch. She'd dropped down next to the mattress as soon as Once Bobby and Dean set had him down on it, she'd just stared at him for the first few minutes, the mingled breathing and shuffling from behind her the only sounds in the room. She vaguely remembers Bobby kissing the back of her head and muttering something about food, but her eyes stayed on Sam's face. Then, after a little while, she started talking. It was mostly rambling stories of their childhood; the time Tawny and Sam decided to make chocolate pudding when they were six and Tawny spilled the milk all over the kitchen; when they were ten and Tawny said she wanted a treehouse, so Sam tried to build her one and fell out of the tree, breaking his arm in two places; Tawny's first driving lesson when Bobby had her in his truck, Sam sitting in the back seat, and she hit the side of the garage, something Sam never let her live down. Finally she runs out of stories. She pulls her hand out of Sam's hair, pushing herself up onto her knees to press a kiss to his forehead before turning around. She slumps back down, leaning her back against the mattress as she rubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands. When she looks up she sees Dean watching her.

They hold eye contact for what seems like hours but is probably only a few seconds before he finally sighs, pushing himself up from the doorjamb he's leaning against. "C'mere," he murmurs, taking a step over to her and holding his hand out. She grabs it and lets him pull her into his chest, one hand tangling in her hair at the back of her head, the other going to her lower back. He slips his hand under her shirt as he fists her hair, angling her head so he can smash their lips together.

Honestly, it's the last thing she expects him to do, and he can obviously sense her hesitation because the arm around her waist tightens, spinning her around and slamming her almost violently against the wall. His tongue probes her mouth, both hands now grappling at the button of her jeans. Her hands move down to his own jeans of their own accord, getting them undone just as he does the same to hers. She hooks a finger into the tented cotton, tugging it down under the heavy swell of his balls before giving his hardened blood-thick length a strong stroke from root to tip. He pulls back enough to shove her jeans and panties down her legs, somehow managing to get them over her boots and off without tearing either of them. She doesn't have time to think about it, though, because he's suddenly standing, his lips on her pulse point and his hands struggling at the backs of her thighs.

"Dean, should we really be –" Tawny starts, but he lets out a growl before biting down hard on the tendon between her neck and shoulder. The pleasurepain shoots straight to her groin and she finally lets him lift her up. She wraps her legs around his hips, crying out when he slides into her to the hilt in one smooth thrust. The pace he picks up is damn-near brutal, almost painful despite the mixture of her arousal and his pre-come slicking the way. After the first few thrusts, though, that's what Tawny realizes she needs. She _needs_ to feel some physical pain, just a little, to soften the emotional pain a bit. It isn't long before Dean's thrusts become erratic and Tawny feels him swell bruise-tight inside her. His lips find hers again and when she opens her mouth to swallow down his moan, her tongue swipes over his bottom lip to find its salty-wet with tears she didn't realize he was shedding.

Tawny coaxes him through the last trembling aftershocks of his orgasm, not even a bit concerned that she was never even close. Dean was more important, his pleasure, even for a few minutes, was the only thing that mattered. His softened flesh finally slips out of her and he quickly tucks himself back into his jeans. Tawny watches as he grabs her own jeans and panties, gently helping her back into them. He finally presses a kiss to her forehead and walks back over to the doorway, not speaking a single word. Tawny looks at him for a moment, shaking her head softly before dropping down onto the mattress softly, her fingers playing over the back of Sam's hand. She feels tears prickle behind her eyes when she realizes how cold his hands are.

It isn't more than a few minutes before the door opens and Bobby walks in, calling out for both of them. Tawny looks over to the door to see him holding up a bucket of fried chicken. "Brought y'all this back," he says, shutting the door before disappearing behind the wall of the bedroom. She can hear him shuffling around in the dining room as Dean looks back at Sam.

"No, thanks. I'm fine," he mutters quickly. Tawny stands and walks over to lay a hand on his forearm. "You should eat, baby," she says softly. Dean's jaw tenses and he looks over her head. "I said I'm fine," he snaps, turning and pulling away from her. He crosses to the table, where he ignores the chicken and grabs a bottle of whiskey, twisting the cap off and taking a large swig. Bobby looks over at Tawny like he wants to press Dean into eating, but she shakes her head lightly and walks over to stand between them. Bobby kisses Tawny's temple absently, his hand resting on her back, and she notices him look over her shoulder at Sam.

"Dean," he says, as gently as he can, "I hate to bring this up, I really do. But don't you think maybe it's time…" He takes a breath, glancing at Tawny. "We bury Sam?" Dean looks up and Tawny's stomach turns at the anger in his eyes. In the past twenty years she's never _ever_ seen him look like this.

"No."

Tawny watches as he sits, staring at the table furiously, and she resists the urge to lay a hand on his shoulder. "We don't have to bury him, Dean," she says softly, leaning against the table. "We could…" she starts, but he looks up at her, his green eyes dark and flat.

"What?" he demands softly. "Torch his corpse? Not yet."

Tawny looks at him for a long moment, trying to convince herself that the anger and malice in his eyes isn't directed towards her, but she knows it is. Truth be told, it terrifies her that Dean can go from fucking her in the same room as Sam's body to hating her for suggesting they put him to rest in less than ten minutes. Dean's still staring her down when Bobby takes a step, his hand on Tawny's back.

"I want y'all to come with me," he says slowly, his tone the same as when he was going on a hunt before Tawny was old enough and there was something really important she had to do. Dean's gaze doesn't falter for a minute as he says "I'm not goin' anywhere". He leans forward, breaking the gaze and Tawny lets out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Dean, please," Bobby pleads. Dean looks over, tears filling his eyes.

"Won't you cut me some slack?" he spits, glaring at Bobby now. Tawny sees Bobby look at her for a moment before she turns her gaze to the ground. "I just don't think you should be alone, that's all," he says. "I gotta admit – I could use your help," he adds, and Tawny looks up at him, confused. She hardly notices Dean's scoff.

"Somethin' big is goin' down – _end-of-the-world_ big," Bobby urges.

"Well, then let it end!" Dean yells, and Tawny jumps, her eyes filling with tears. "You don't mean that," she whispers, looking at him. Dean stands, towering over her, and for the first time in her life she's afraid of him. She instinctively takes a step back, her back pressed against Bobby's chest.

"You don't think so?" Dean growls, bearing down on her. Bobby grabs Tawny's biceps, trying to force her behind him, but she won't let him. Nothing will ever get between her and Dean; she won't let it. When she doesn't answer he steps a little closer. Bobby starts to pull her back and she lets him.

"Huh?" Dean continues. "You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough?" He jerks his head towards Sam and Tawny feels the tears spill over, rolling down her cheeks. "I'm done with it. All of it." He pauses and Tawny sees his hand jerk, like he wants to reach out for her but he won't let himself. Instead he looks at her sharply, his own tears breaking loose.

"And if you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and get the hell outta here with your dad."

Bobby drops his hands and turns towards the door, but Tawny doesn't move. She just looks at him, trying to find the courage to say something, _anything_ that will make him change his mind. Before she can, though, he grabs her shoulders, pushing her towards the door as he yells "Go!" heatedly. She trips and starts to fall, but before she hits the ground Dean grabs her waist, pulling her up into his chest. He lets her go after a split-second.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, looking away. "Please just go."

Tawny watches as he crosses the room, grasping the back of the sole dining room chair and leaning his weight on it. Tawny looks at Bobby, who hands her jacket to her. She shrugs it on before looking over at Dean. "You know where we'll be," she says softly, and she turns and follows Bobby out of the house.

* * *

When Dean gets to Bobby's house, he fully expects that the face on the other side of the front door will have an expression of surprise. Whether it's Bobby or Tawny, they won't expect Sam to be standing next to him, alive and well. So when Bobby opens the door, Dean is completely deadpan when he looks at Sam like – well, like he's seen a ghost. Sam, on the other hand, has to go and be all caring and thank Bobby for 'patching him up' and the look Bobby shoots him once Sam is headed into the study tells Dean that he's definitely up shit creek without a paddle. Bobby's eye twitches violently when Dean tells him that Sam's much better now and asks him what he knows. Bobby just waves him into the study.

Sam's only taken one step into the room when Dean hears footsteps, a dull thunk, and Sam lets out a small "Oof!". When Dean steps closer he sees Tawny clinging to Sam, and while he can't see her face – it's buried in Sam's chest – he knows she's crying by the sniffling and soft shake of her shoulders.

"Hey, Tawny," Sam murmurs softly, his hand going to her hair. Dean feels a jolt of guilt when he sees Sam rubbing her back, trying to soothe her. Sam presses a kiss to Tawny's head before whispering reassurances, that he's okay and nothing is gonna happen to him. Dean feels a clench in his chest when Sam presses his face into Tawny's hair, promising to never leave her. He and Bobby look on in silence until Tawny finally pulls away, her bloodshot brown eyes falling on Dean. He can't help but think that despite her pink, tearstained cheeks and smeared mascara and red nose, she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. His heart is thundering in his chest, beating behind his ribs painfully, as she walks over to him. He's fully expecting her to start yelling or hit him or tell him she hates him, so when she slowly slides her arms around his shoulders and presses her body to his, Dean takes complete advantage of it and hugs her close, letting his eyes flutter shut as he buries his face in her hair and takes a deep breath, letting her soft scent ease the ache in his chest. His pulse has just returned to normal when she turns her head, her lips brushing his ear, and she says something that makes him stop breathing.

"I know what you did," she whispers, so low he can barely hear it. He can't decipher what she's thinking by the tone of her voice, but when she pulls away he sees how flat her eyes are, and he knows that he may have really blown it.

When he was making his confession to Sam before he went to see the Crossroads Demon, Dean never thought that in correcting the fact that he let Sam down, he may have let down the one person who has never done anything to hurt him. Tawny has always been one of the two constants in his life, the other being unpredictability. He knows it's a paradox; how can he say he knows – knew – Tawny would be there unconditionally when nearly everything in his life was unpredictable? All he has to back up the notion is the past.

Tawny is, up to this point, the only person who has never hurt him, never turned him away, never lied to him. She's the most honest person he knows, even more than Sam. Tawny is his conscience, his good luck charm, his muse, his therapist, his cook, his caretaker, and the love of his life. He knows that once she finds out he's breaking his promise to always be by her side – that in one year, three hundred and sixty five days, he'll be gone – it will probably kill her. The thought sickens him.

"Dean," Bobby says, waving a hand in front of Dean's face as he draws out his name, making it two syllables. "You payin' attention?" Dean nods, clearing his throat, and he glances at Tawny, who's leaning against the desk, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Anyways, like I was sayin', we found somethin', but we're not sure what the hell it means," Bobby drawls. Sam looks at Tawny, swallowing. "What is it?"

"Demonic omens," she answers, letting her eyes flicker over to Dean's. He sees absolutely no emotion in them and another wave of guilt hits him. "Like a friggin' tidal wave. Cattle deaths, lightning storms – they skyrocketed from outta nowhere."

"Here," Bobby offers, grabbing a map and turning it so he and Sam could look on. "All around here," he says, circling an area around Wyoming with a finger. "Except for one place. Here – Southern Wyoming."

"Wyoming?" Dean asks, puzzled. Tawny looks up at him. "Yeah. That one area's totally clean. Spotless. It's almost as if…" Tawny trails off, looking up at Sam. "What?" he asks, his eyes growing concerned. Dean looks down at her and sees her jaw is tense.

"It's almost as if the demons are surrounding it," Tawny finishes quietly. Dean looks between her and Bobby, growing concerned. "But you don't know why?" he asks, and Bobby shakes his head.

"No, and by this point my eyes are swimmin' and Tawny's been…" he trails off for a moment and Tawny shoots him a look she probably didn't intend Dean to catch. "Tawny's been preoccupied. Sam, would you help Tawny take a look at it? Maybe you two can catch somethin' I couldn't."

"Yeah, sure," Sam agrees, looking over at Tawny. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and Dean's stomach flips when he chuckles and says "Just like old times, huh?" Dean looks over at Tawny and he sees she's smiling sadly. "Yeah," she finally agrees quietly.

"C'mon, Dean," Bobby says, drawing Dean's attention away from Tawny. When Dean looks at him, Bobby has a determined look on his face. "I got s'more books in the truck. Help me lug 'em in." Dean doesn't question Bobby but can't help but notice that it was more of a demand than a request. He follows Bobby out of the room, kissing the back of Tawny's head lightly. He's glad when she doesn't pull away, but he also notices she doesn't lean back into him like she normally would.

He walks out of the house, following Bobby way past where Bobby parks his truck and Dean just barely has time to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable shit-storm before Bobby turns around, obviously livid.

"You stupid ass! What did you do?" he demands. Dean looks down, ashamed yet not regretful in the slightest. He looks back at Bobby when he grabs Dean's collar, shaking him roughly. "What'd you _do_?!" Bobby screams. Dean looks down, unable to look Bobby, his surrogate father, the only man he has to look to for advice and help, in the face. It takes him only a second to realize it's because he won't just see Bobby's disappointment, but Tawny's as well.

"You made a deal…" he continues, his voice a little softer, but still angry. "For Sam, didn't ya? How long did they give ya?"

"Bobby," Dean pleads, still unable to look at him.

"How long?!"

He finally looks at Bobby, pausing when he realizes that Tawny inherited his freckles. For some reason the image of a dark freckle in the dip below Tawny's left collar bone comes to mind and Dean has to bite back tears. "One year," he says, and he inwardly flinches when he sees the distress in Bobby's eyes.

"Dammit, Dean," he practically groans. Dean can't take Bobby's stare anymore so he focuses on a stain on Bobby's jacket, trying to keep his voice even. "Which is why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch. 'at's why I'm gonna kill 'im myself. I mean, I got nothin' to lose now, right?"

Dean hardly even flinches when Bobby grabs the collar of his jacket again, fully prepared for it this time. "I could throttle you!" he growls, and Dean can't help the words that tumble from his lips.

"What, and send me downstairs ahead of schedule?"

Dean instantly regrets it when Bobby shakes his head, his eyes shining with tears. "What is it with you Winchesters, huh?" he ponders, and Dean has to look away again. "You, your dad, you're both just _itchin'_ to throw yerselves down the pit."

"That's my point," Dean cuts in, a lump forming in his throat. "Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way somethin' good could come out of it, ya know? It's like my life can mean somethin'."

"What?" Bobby yells, and Dean can see the anguish in his eyes. "And it didn't before? There's a little girl in there," he continues, pointing towards the house " _my_ little girl, and she fuckin' _worships_ you, Dean! Has since the day you walked through my door! You may not think you mean anything, but to Tawny, you're _everything_! When she was little and y'all were with yer daddy, she used to wake up screamin' for you, beggin' me 'daddy, I just want Dee, just want Dee, gimme Dee' and I had to tell her you weren't there! What am I supposed to tell my baby girl in a year when she starts screamin' for you again?!"

Dean watches as Bobby practically breaks down in front of him, his tears finally falling. He has so much he wants to say; that he's sorry, that he didn't mean to hurt her, that he loves her. But all he manages is "I couldn't let him die, Bobby. I couldn't. He's my brother."

Bobby looks at him for a second, taking a deep breath. "How's your brother gonna feel when he knows you're going to hell?" Bobby grabs his collar again and Dean focuses on that same stain again, begging it to get him out of this mess. "How'd _you_ feel," Bobby barrels on, shaking Dean lightly "when you knew your dad went for _you_?"

"You can't tell him," Dean suddenly says, panicked. If this would kill Tawny, Dean doesn't even want to think about what it'll do to Sam. "You take a shot at me, whatever you gotta do, but please don't tell 'im."

Dean feels a single tear roll down his cheek as Bobby barely chokes back a sob, his hand coming up to cup Dean's chin. Bobby's a second away from pulling him into a hug when the sound of scuffling floats over an old rusted out Pinto.

* * *

Tawny always wondered what John would say to her if he ever got the chance. 'I always thought of you like a daughter', 'I'm proud of you', 'Take care'a my boys', 'Sammy died and Dean's goin' to Hell and it's all your fault'. Something along those lines. But when John's spirit appears to them in that old Cowboy Cemetery, after he squeezes Dean's shoulder and shoots Sam a proud grin, he just turns to Tawny, a broad smile on his face. She feels a sob tear at her chest when he raises his hand, hooking his index finger under her chin, his thumb pressing into the flesh of it, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. He doesn't say a word, even as he lets go and walks away. Tawny watches as he disappears in a bright light and flash of smoke, and suddenly she knows what to do.

See, the entire way to the cemetery, behind the wheel of her truck, Tawny's head and heart waged a battle. Her heart told her to forgive Dean; that he did what he had to do to save Sam. After all, she would have been heartbroken if she'd had to bury Sammy. In her heart, she knew he should be forgiven. But at the same time, her head told her that he chose Sam over her, and no matter how selfish that might seem, he was her lover and had promised a life with her, then decided to end that life without consulting her. It was a hours' long battle, bringing with it stinging tears and throbbing heartache. When they finally made it to the cemetery, Tawny still had no idea what to do even as she parked the truck between her father's and the Impala.

Tawny stayed focused up until she heard the gunshot from the Colt, only letting her mind wander back to Dean as she pushed herself off of the ground, wiping blood from a deep gash across her cheek, courtesy of the yellow-eyed demon. As soon as John pressed his lips to her forehead, though, it was like he was streaming the answer right into her mind.

 _If you let him go, and he comes back, you know that he's yours._

In that moment, watching him back up, that broad smile across his face, she knew her choice. She watched Sam and Dean walking back to the road, so she decided to let Dean tell Sam on his own. She helped Bobby and Ellen drag Jake's body and the body that the yellow-eyed demon stole off to the edge of the cemetery. They salted and burned them, and Tawny hoped the smoke helped hide her tears. Finally, when they were sure that the fire had taken, the three of them made their way over to the road. Tawny tried not to hear what Sam was saying, going over what she wanted to say in her mind instead. She hardly heard the four of them talking, only looking up when she heard the trunk slam.

"Tawny, you want me to take your truck?" Sam offers, holding out his hands for the keys. She looks at him, unsure, but he smiles softly.

"Just for a few hours, so you and Dean can get some alone time," he says softly, and Tawny nods. She reaches into her jacket pocket, fishing out her car keys and handing them over to Sam before she turns and climbs into the Impala. Bobby catches her gaze and she tries to smile at him, but she's sure that it comes across as more of a grimace. Once Bobby and Ellen are in Bobby's truck and Sam is behind the wheel of Tawny's, they head north, Bobby taking the lead and Dean bringing up the rear. Neither of them speaks until they turn onto the interstate, but when Dean opens his mouth, Tawny can hardly stand it.

"So, I was thinkin' that once we get back to your dad's –"

"I can't do it, Dean."

She sees him glance at her in her peripheral vision and she can tell he's confused.

"Can't do what?" he asks slowly, reaching out for her. She gently slides away from him holding her hand up to stop him.

"This, Dean. I can't pretend we're okay. We're not okay," she says softly. She looks over at him to see he's staring at the road again, the taillights from her truck reflected in his eyes. He takes a deep breath and glances at her. His eyes are shiny-wet with tears.

"We're not?" he asks softly, and Tawny has to close her eyes tightly against a fresh wave of tears when she hears his voice crack. She tells herself she has to go on, has to finish what he started, and she opens her mouth again.

"No, Dean. We're not okay. I don't know if we'll _ever_ be okay again," she says, and suddenly the words start to flow, coming out of her mouth before she knows what she's saying. "Back in November, when we were in Mississippi, you went to see that Crossroads Demon and I knew, I _knew,_ that a seed had been planted. I tried to tell myself you would never sell your soul, that you would never have reason to cut our time together down to ten years, especially not when you promised me – _promised me_ – that you would never leave me. So, no, we're not okay. _I'm_ not okay. I'm not okay waiting around for a decade, imagining what it's gonna be like when some fucking hellhound finally hunts you down and shreds you or makes you jump out a window or off of a building. I'm not gonna watch you die, Dean. Even if ten years seems like a long time, I can't do it. It's not long enough, especially when you're gonna be in hell for ten years less than eternity. _Eternity,_ Dean. Do you know how long that –"

"One," Dean says softly, and Tawny pauses, wiping at the waterfall of tears on her face. She looks at him, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. "What?"

"One," he repeats, loud and slow this time. "One year. That was the deal. She brought Sam back and I get one year."

For a few moments Tawny doesn't know what to say. She just stares at him, her heart in her throat, unable to even breathe. One year. One. That's all she gets with him. Just one year.

"Pull over," she whispers. He looks over at her, shaking his head.

"Tawny, don't do this," he pleads, but Tawny just looks away, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Pull over," she repeats, louder this time. He still doesn't and Tawny feels a flair of anger.

"Pull the fucking car over, Dean!" she yells, and Dean jumps like he's been burned. He swings the wheel over, though, guiding the car onto the shoulder. She sees Sam and Bobby slow ahead, finally coming to a stop a few dozen yards ahead.

Tawny climbs out of the car, striding quickly towards the taillights of her own truck. She hears Dean's door slam and his footsteps as he runs towards her, but she doesn't slow down. Sam climbs out of her truck and closes the door just as Dean's hand grabs Tawny's bicep. She turns quickly, unaware of her closed fist swinging out until it collides with Dean's jaw. He falls back a step, looking at her with wide, terrified eyes.

"Tawny –" he starts, but suddenly she's yelling and she can't stop.

"How _dare_ you! How dare you assume that I would just fall back into that trap, Dean Winchester! I can't fucking believe you! What does someone have to do to stay in your fucking life for more than five fucking minutes, huh?! You fucking _promised_ me, Dean! You promised you'd always be there! You're a God-damned liar, Dean! So just go! Get outta my life and stay gone!"

She collapses, loud sobs wracking her body, and she feels her father wrapping his arms around her from behind, hugging her to his chest. She feels the rumble of his voice as he says something, but who he's talking to she doesn't know, nor does she really care. She hears some more talking, then two slams and the roar of an engine. She looks up just in time to see the taillights of the Impala fading into darkness.


End file.
